


The Secret Life Of Guy Germaine

by Marblez



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:25:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>REVISED AND EDITED (FEB 2016) </p><p>Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. </p><p>He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. </p><p>He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything, I’m just borrowing them for the purpose of this story.

 **Summary:** Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…

**Warnings: SLASH! THREESOME! UNDERAGE!**

**~ THE SECRET LIFE OF GUY GERMAINE ~**

**~ PROLOGUE ~**

 

"I vant to have ze sex vith you."

Guy Germaine couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t think.

All he could do was stare open-mouthed at the tall boy standing in front of him.

"Wh-What did you just say?"

He must have misheard his friend, his secret friend.

They'd met on the fifth day of the games, supposed enemies in a very competitive competition. It had been half an hour before the curfew and Guy had been pumping weights in the gym when Gunnar Stahl and Olaf Sanderson entered; ready to do their own workout.

He couldn't help but stare; both boys were beautiful in every sense of the word.

Guy Germaine had been bisexual since he'd hit puberty and he wasn't afraid of it or ashamed of it. And instead of being distant that first meeting they'd struck up a friendship, forgetting the games and just working out together in the evenings.

But now this.

"I vant to have ze sex with you," Gunnar repeated with a flirtatious smile. They were in the gym as usual, the only ones there. "Olaf does too."

The blond standing beside Gunnar nodded, a hand reaching out to brush through Guy's floppy hair. Guy continued to stare, his eyes flicking between the two older boys. They were seventeen to his fifteen after all, much more in tune with the ways of the world.

"Vat is your answer?” Gunnar enquired softly, his own hand reaching out to cup Guy’s jaw. “If it's no that's ok, we just be friends. But ve talked and decided to ask, maybe you say yes."

"We can teach you plenty," Olaf's hand moved to stroke Guys neck and he couldn't stop a violent shiver running through his body at the gentle touches. "Vat you say?"

"I've never…not even with Connie…"

Ah, Connie.

Guy's ex-girlfriend who had broken up with him just before the competition began.

To hook up with Dwayne of all people.

Dwayne!

Ah well, if that's what she wanted that's what she wanted.

It had been one of the reasons Guy had been open to this new friendship at the start.

"I'm a…"

"A virgin?" Olaf sounded genuinely surprised, "A good looking guy like you?"

"Yes. Sorry."

A red blush stained his cheeks and he looked down at his feet only to have his head tilted upwards by the gentle hand cupping his jaw, Gunnar’s thumb stroking gently over his cheek.

"It is not bad thing. It is good thing, a nice thing," Gunnar said softly as he leaned in close, "I kiss you now."

And he did, just like that.

His warm lips pressed against Guy's dry ones and oh did it feel good!

Guy allowed himself to be pulled against the strong body before him, eagerly tilting his head up into the gentle kiss. Gunnar’s hand left his chin and Guy felt both of his strong hands on his arse, pulling their hips together. Guy was embarrassed by how loud his moan was.

A pair of hands trailed up his sides, coming to rest on his chest as a muscular body pressed firmly along his back and a pair of impossibly soft lips pressed against the back of his neck.

"I think he likes it."

"Do you have answer yet Guy Germaine?" Gunnar asked against Guy's lips. The hands on his chest were squeezing gently and he gave a gasp as Olaf bit down lightly on his neck.

"Yes…”

"Is that a yes, yes or a yes, you have answer?" Olaf asked with a smile.

"It's a _yes_ …" Guy moaned uncontrollably, his hands moving of their own accord to grab Gunnar by the back of his head and pulling him down into another kiss. “Yes…please…”

That was all the confirmation they needed, apparently, and almost immediately the kisses intensified. Gunnar’s hands held his head in place but Olaf’s roamed all over his body, eventually reaching down to guide him to wrap his legs around Gunnar’s waist.

And then he was being carried to the gyms changing rooms and it was there on a bed of freshly laundered towels that his "education" began…

 

 **A/N** I’m re-writing this story as I wanted to continue with it but upon reviewing what I’d written in the past I realised that my writing style has changed too much to simply pick up where I left off. That said these first few chapters will be familiar to anyone who read the first publication of this story with a few bits added in or moved around. X


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything, I’m just borrowing them for the purpose of this story.

 **Summary:** Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…

**Warnings: SLASH! THREESOME! UNDERAGE!**

**~ THE SECRET LIFE OF GUY GERMAINE ~**

**~ CHAPTER ONE ~**

 

Game day, today they faced Iceland.

The three of them had agreed when they’d met up last night that their relationship wouldn’t affect how they played against each other. His lovers had made him promise to be careful, however, as Coach Stansson was a particularly brutal man who encouraged his players to be just as brutal as he was. If they didn’t “behave” then they found themselves in trouble.

Sitting in the changing room Guy joined in the banter as Bombay entered in an expensive looking suit. It was like their Coach was in fancy dress but he seemed to be serious about it.

The game began as it was going to continue, badly.

Portman, the idiot, was thrown out of the game in three seconds.

A personal record but he was too pissed off to note that fact.

And after that it was like they were District Five again being absolutely slaughtered. Every time the Ducks got the puck they either lost it or their attempt on the goal was saved.

And the Vikings just kept scoring, over and over again.

The end of the 2nd period came as a relief…for a few moments.

Bombay’s little speech was _not_ needed; they needed encouragement, they didn't need to be compared to 'headless chickens'. Guy resisted the urge to compare their Coach to Stansson.

If anything the Vikings were even more brutal going into the third period than they had been in the previous two periods and Guy couldn’t believe that the two boys he was watching dominate the ice were his lovers, two of the gentles people he had ever known.

They had warned him that on the ice they would be forced to obey their Coach's every order but he hadn't quite expected this. And then Goldberg got pulled off and on went Julie.

He had a bad feeling about it as soon as he saw them skating towards her.

"Send in a woman to do a man’s job.”

"Don't break a nail!”

Guy looked away from them; he couldn't bear to see them behaving like that.

"I'm sorry boys but can you help me with my pads please?"

Julie’s voice was sickeningly sweet and entirely too innocent to be true.

It was a struggle to keep his face blank as his fellow Ducks shared broad grins as the two Vikings fell for her “girl-next-door” play, reaching down to help her with pads. Her shove wasn't hard, just enough force to unbalance them and send them tumbling onto their asses.

Of course the referee just happened to be close by and jumped down on her in seconds.

"That's intent to injure, you're out of the game.”

Julie offered the two young men lying on the ice a smirk.

"See you around fellers…”

Picking up her things she left the ice with dignity amidst the cheers of the crowd.

The game continued, Iceland continuing to dominate them, until finally Fulton got close to scoring with his famous slap-shot only to have it caught, _caught_ by their goalie.

Even Guy had to admit that they had a bloody good goalie.

And then a miracle happened, a miracle in the form of Adam Banks.

He got the puck, he kept the puck and he scored.

Everyone went wild.

And then it went south for so many reasons.

Adam was celebrating, pointing towards the Iceland goalie with his stick and was probably about to shout 'you suck' or something equally as stupid when Olaf snapped, hurrying over to where the younger boy was stood and smashing his stick down over Adam's wrist.

"Oh My God!"

Adam cried out in pain, folding around the wrist which he was now clutching to his chest as everyone rushed towards him. Everyone bar Guy, that is, as he was too busy staring across at Olaf in shock as the older boy was taken over to the penalty box by one of the referees.

"In my country we call that a love tap!”

Guy wasn’t the only one to frown in confusion as he was allowed to stay in the game following such an obvious attempt to cause another player harm while Julie, who had done nothing more than give someone a gentle push, gets sent off immediately.

Not to mention Olaf’s behaviour had been completely un-sportsman like.

That seemed somewhat unfair…

Gunnar skated past the penalty box, shaking his head discretely to show his disapproval of Olaf’s behaviour but Coach Stansson was obviously very proud of his player’s actions.

The game continued going downhill, Charlie tried and failed to score and the buzzer went.

After the game the team filed into the locker room, completely exhausted and feeling more than a little bit humiliated. Finding a place to sit or lean was heaven for their abused bodies as they waited for Bombay and his usual after game talk, one of his numerous rituals.

They were hoping for a little kindness from their coach…

They didn't get it.

"Twelve to one. _Twelve_ to one. You know what word comes to mind when you think of that, hmm? Pathetic!” Bombay ranted angrily at the team, his face full of thunder as he paced back and forth in front of them in his fine suit. “You guys were brought here to play hockey."

"What about you?" Jesse demanded from where he was sat on the bench in front of Guy, ever the loud mouth, ever the first one to speak up for the team in situations like this

"What about me Jesse?”

"Coach Stansson knew everything about us, they were ready for us," Julie spoke up instead.

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the exhausted group of friends.

"Yeah and you spend your time driving around in convertibles and talking to all those sponsor fools," Luis joined in, glaring at Bombay for all he was worth.

"Or hanging with the Iceland lady, we saw you two Saturday night!" Fulton snapped angrily.

Heads snapped round to stare at him and then just as quickly snapped round stare at Bombay whose face had taken on a look of shocked surprise, obviously not expecting to have been caught out and thus confirming the validity of Fulton’s statement without a word.

"Eating ice cream with the enemy, huh coach?" Portman asked spitefully.

Guy froze, sucking in a sharp gulp of air before trying to calm himself down.

No one was looking at him, no one was accusing him.

It was all about Bombay.

A feeling of dread began pooling in his stomach he found himself wondering how his friends would react if they ever found out what he was getting up to, given how badly they were taking the news that Coach Bombay had been seen simply sharing a snack with one of them.

"Hey, what I do is none of your business. Is that clear?" Bombay snapped back angrily. The team scoffed at his pathetic defence for his unforgivable offences and began to get out of the pads. "Don't take those pads off. Everyone stay in your gear. We have practise."

" _Tonight_?"

~ * ~ * ~

Everything in his body hurt; his bones…his muscles…his lungs…hell, even his brain was hurting after the seemingly never ending practise they had just been put through.

What had happened to the old, fun loving Bombay?

'Captain Blood' was a very appropriate name for this new Bombay.

The rest of the team got showered and changed as quickly as they could, aching just as much as he did. Guy took his time so that he was the last person out of the changing room, allowing him to head straight for the gym instead of heading back to the dorm room.

"Ve didn't know if you vould come today," the soft voice came from door to the changing room where a freshly showered Olaf stood. "Gunnar thought you might be mad vith us."

Guy shook his head gently and walked up to the older boy, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'm not mad at you for the game," Guy said softly before leaning back and glaring at Olaf, "I am mad at _you_ for what you did to Adam's wrist." The older teen ducked his head, looking slightly ashamed. "Olaf, I can’t believe you did that. You could have broken his wrist!"

"I am sorry. Coach Stansson brings out the vorst in me. He tells us to be mean and…and ven I'm in a game I…I get carried avay," Olaf murmured apologetically. Guy had noticed early on that their grasp of the English language tended to struggle when they were emotional. "I vould apologise to him but…he vouldn't listen and Coach vould…vell he vouldn't like it."

"I understand…" Guy sighed sadly, thinking of the numerous stories his lovers had told him regarding their coach and his brutal ways. No, Olaf couldn’t be blamed for getting carried away like he did. "Now I really need to sit down or lay down or something before I collapse."

"You are tired?" Olaf asked, taking Guy's duffel bag from him.

"Coach made us practise after the game for three hours," Guy smiled sadly, pressing his fingertips against his eyes. "I think he's started taking tips from your Coach."

They entered the changing together and found a shirtless Gunnar waiting for them on one of the benches, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"Don’t worry, I'm not mad at you."

Gunnar sighed with relief, his arms folding around Guy as he sat down on the bench. Guy moaned slightly in pain, even someone hugging him so gently hurt his muscles.

"What's wrong?" Gunnar demanded, pulling his arms back as quickly as he could. “Guy?”

"My muscles are sore is all," Guy leant his head forwards, resting his forehead on Gunnar’s strong shoulder. The hands resting on his back began to massage gently and Olaf's hands soon joined them. "Nothing I haven't felt before."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Guy sighing with pleasure as gentle hands soothed away his aches and pains. After those few minutes Olaf's hands changed their tack and Guy was soon stripped of his shirt and the hands began to caress rather than massage.

Guy couldn't help but smile as Olaf started to kiss across his shoulder blades.

If only he wasn't so tired…

"As wonderful as this feels I'm not up to much more tonight…"

The kisses and gentle hands didn't stop but they didn't move on, didn't ask for anything more than was already being given by the exhausted teenager sat between his lovers.

"Guy…vould you like to sleep with us tonight?"

"Huh?"

"Vould you like to sleep vith us? Ve haf a room to ourselves, one of the ones vith two beds only. Vould you like to spend the night?” Gunnar asked softly. “Just to sleep."

Olaf nodded against Guy's back, silently shoeing his agreement with Gunnar’s suggestion.

Guy sat up slowly, thinking quickly.

In all the times they'd made love they'd never slept together, it just hadn't been possible. They'd only ever been able to meet in the gym's changing room until now.

"But what about your coach's bed checks?"

That had been the reason for them never having made love in an actual bed, they'd have been caught. And Guy shared his dorm with five other boys but they had never reported him for getting in late, after the curfew. But would they report him for not coming in at all?

"He's stopped doing them. He says he knows he can trust us now," Olaf answered, giving Guy's shoulder another kiss while his hand stroked across his stomach. "So vat do you say?"

"Spending the night with you two would be absolutely wonderful," Guy smiled shyly at them. "I'll have to leave early so that I get back before my teams wake up call."

"Ve haf an alarm clock," Gunnar reassured him with a smile. “Ve vill get you up in time.”

Together they rose and Guy pulled his shirt back on, trying not to yawn as he did so.

Olaf grabbed Guy's duffel and the American teen only noticed now that neither of the other teens had bags with them. Obviously they’d been back to their room once already.

They led the way, Gunnar going ahead to make sure that none of their team mates were hanging around outside and then in no time at Guy was inside their bedroom.

There were two single beds, one on either side of the small room but only one of them looked as though it had actually been slept in. Their clothes were strewn all over the place, much like Guy's were in his dorm and their skating things were the only things kept tidy.

Olaf dropped Guy's bag by the door as Gunnar set about removing Guy’s t-shirt and jacket.

The taller of the two Icelandic teens didn't help strip the youngest of the three, instead he removed his own clothes until he was left in nothing but his black boxers.

Gunnar expertly rid Guy of his shoes, socks and trousers.

Olaf’s arms wrapped around Guy from behind and pulled him down onto the bed with him. As Gunnar stripped to match his lovers Olaf manoeuvred both himself and Guy so they were laying on the bed, Olaf nearest the wall and when Gunnar lay down too Guy was in the middle. It was Gunnar who pulled the blankets up over the three of them.

"This is nice…" Olaf mumbled, kissing Guy's forehead as he snuggled his head into Olaf's shoulder. Gunnar snuggled up to Guy's back, pressing his face into the back of Guys neck and slipping his arms around Guys waist. “Sweet dreams.”

Olaf’s free arm came up and over all three of them and slowly they all drifted off to sleep, Guy feeling more comfortable and loved than he ever had in his life.

~ * ~

Everything seemed to happen at warp speed after that but maybe that was just because they were all so tired for the next few days, their bodies having been pushed to the limit.

McKay cancelled one of their practises after they’d begun struggling to stay awake during her lessons, ordering them all to get some much needed rest and Guy had never been more willing to obey an order from a teacher than he had been in that moment in time.

He only wished he’d been able to see Bombay’s face when none of them had turned up.

Playing street hockey against a local team, one of whom had made a habit of mocking them during their last few matches, had been an education and a relief all rolled into one. It had reminded them of where they had come from, of how it felt to play the game they loved as a group of friends rather than just going through the motions like they had been recently.

Then came the Germany game where Miss McKay absolutely rocked!

She’d stepped up, successfully convincing the referee that she was in fact their ‘Assistant Coach’ when Bombay had failed to turn up on time, saving them from having to forfeit.

“What are you waiting for, the ice to freeze? Let's play!”

When Bombay had eventually turned up, using the same duck call he’d gathered them all with at the start of this adventure to draw their attention, Guy had noticed that he was dressed more like himself in a pair of jeans, a polo-shirt and his team jacket.

“Guys, I was wrong and I'm sorry. I forgot about the team and the team is all I have,” he’d told them sincerely. “All I want is another chance. Just one more shot. I'm back.”

None of them had really believed him until he’d played the ‘Flying V’ in order to win the game, relying on a move that they hadn’t pulled in a long time but was sure would work.

And work it did.

Coach Bombay was back.

Life improved after that game for the team.

Bombay promised that he'd gotten rid of his distractions, even lighting up one of those ridiculous cardboard cut-outs. Nice, encourage your team to burn their distractions.

Luckily they all knew he didn't mean literally, especially Guy.

He didn't think his two very handsome distractions would like being set on fire.

They spent their practises working on the faults that the Vikings had exploited, going right the way back to basics. Guy also found the lessons they had on the Iceland team quite interesting, hearing about his lover’s styles and what their favourite tricks were.

It was all going so well, the training, the new routine…but of course it couldn't last.

At least not for Adam.

Everyone remembered the wrist incident, including Bombay.

As it turned out it was lucky he did remember and ordered Adam to have an x-ray, playing with it for much longer would have caused a more serious and permanent injury. So Adam was pulled from the team, benched and forced to wear his arm in a sling.

Didn't stop him skating around in the practises, teasing them to make them work harder.

"But we're a player down, how can we hope to win a player down?" Goldberg asked as they ate their lunches one day not long after Adam's x-ray.

"Especially if we're playing against Iceland in the final which is looking more and more likely. We'll need all the players we can get," Averman agreed quickly. "Or we'll die."

"So why don't we find another one?" Charlie suggested.

"Great idea Charlie, do you just happen to have a spare player tucked away in your luggage?" Averman asked sarcastically. Charlie glared at him before answering,

"No. I was thinking of Russ."

Russ and his amazing knuckle puck.

Of course Coach Bombay allowed him to join the team after he’d seen his signature move, Tibbles spun the story in the papers a way to gain even more support from the people of America. Not that they needed any more support, it was crazy enough as it was.

The game against Russia was tough one, both of the teams matched in skill, but eventually they managed to pull ahead and were already guaranteed to win when in the last few minutes of the games Russ had made a spectacular debut, showing off his signature move.

Guy was participating in the team celebrations, throwing his arms around Julie and giving the girl a tight hug, when he spotted Gunnar and Olaf sitting in the middle of the crowd.

He grinned, his heart giving a pathetic flutter as their eyes met.

As discretely as he could Gunnar held up seven fingers, letting Guy know the time they wanted him to meet them at their room that evening. Equally as discretely he nodded, signalling his own agreement, before re-joining his team’s celebrations as they left the ice.

“I told him no visitors, but he wanted to congratulate you anyway.”

Seriously?

That was how Bombay decided to introduce Wayne Gretzky, Wayne _“The Great One”_ Gretzky, to his team before stepping back and watching their heads practically explode as they all but fell over themselves to meet one of the greatest hockey stars of all time.

He was so flustered about actually getting to meet one of his heroes, shaking his hand before getting his autograph that he almost forgot that he had a date to keep. Almost.

“Got a hot date to get to, Guy?”

“Huh?” Guy mumbled in response to Portman’s teasing as he hurried to pull on his street clothes, his fingers fumbling more than he would have like. “What did you say?”

"Well it’s just you seem to be in a bit of a hurry to get out of here,” Portman continued with a broad grin. “Just wondered if you had a hot date you were trying to get to?”

The others, all partially changed themselves, listened intently.

"And what if I do?" Guy asked, trying to sound bold even though his heart was pounding about four times the speed it normally did. Portman cackled loudly,

"Guy Germaine you sly dog! Who is she? Is she hot?"

"Is that where you've been disappearing?" Charlie demanded. “Why you’ve missed curfew?”

"Maybe…" Guy admitted sheepishly as he pulled on his Team USA jacket. “I’ll see you later.”

Hurrying out of the room, his bag slung over his shoulder, he winced as someone clapped on the back with rather a lot of force but didn’t stop as he didn’t want to risk having to answer any more of their questions. Or rather he didn’t want to have to lie to them anymore.

Keeping an eye out just in case his friends decided to do some amateur detective work to find out who he was meeting up with he quickly made his way to his lover’s room.

Using the code they’d agreed upon (one knock, a pause, two quick knock, a pause, then one final knock) he waited, smiling as the door was opened by Olaf wearing only his boxers.

"You played vell today,” Olaf breathed, the deepness of his voice giving away how excited he was. “Ve vere impressed and proud of our lover so we thought we’d give you a reward,"

Guy blushed as he allowed himself to be pulled inside, dropping his bag as the door was shut behind him and was about to begin protesting that he hadn’t really done anything to warrant a reward when he saw just what was awaiting him inside the small bedroom.

Gunnar was very naked, very hard, very sweaty and bound to the bedposts.

Yes, _bound_ to the bedposts.

"Oh My God…"

Gunnar moaned on the bed, turning his head in the direction of Guy's voice.

As well as being bound to the bedposts by his wrists and ankles his eyes were completely covered by a scarf currently serving as a blindfold and he’d been gagged with a pair of socks.

Olaf chuckled behind him, reaching around his trembling body in order to remove each item of clothing Guy had managed to put on, his fingertips trailing over the sensitised skin.

Guy felt himself starting to pant as all the blood let his head and rushed down to his groin.

"Oh My God…"

"You said that already," Olaf chuckled, kissing the back of Guys neck. “I guess you like it.”

"Yeah…I do…but…" his voice trailed off, his eyes going wide as Gunnar arched his back in the most sensual move Guy had ever seen someone perform. "How long has he been…?"

 

 

"Since ve got here,” Olaf answered, his tongue darting out to lick the shell of Guy's ear. Guy moaned loudly, leaning back against him. “So about ten minutes after ve left the game."

"Why…?"

"He likes it. Ve haf done in before but he vanted to do it vith you," Olaf explained, removing Guy’s shoes before tugging his trousers down with practised ease. "Do you not vant to?"

"No, no I want to…I just never thought…" Guy mumbled, his cheeks turning red as he realised just how excited he really was in that moment. "Do you like being tied up?"

"No. I like doing the tying," Olaf murmured deeply. "I'd like to tie you up Guy but ve'll vait till next time. For now let's go have some fun vith Gunnar before he dies of frustration."

Guy nodded, his brain struggling to process everything that was happening as well as what had just been said, and allowed himself to be led over to the bed by Olaf who had somehow in the process of removing all of Guy’s clothes removed his own boxers as well.

This was going to be a fun, fun night.

~ * ~ * ~

When the alarm went off the following morning only Guy reacted to it, swinging his arm over to shut it up before burrowing back into his lovers arms, asleep again in moments.

The hours passed the sleeping boys by even as those elsewhere woke and began their daily rituals, the three of them completely exhausted after their adventurous activities last night which had actually managed to last through to the early morning. They only woke up when someone hammered on the door to the room and someone shouting loudly in Icelandic.

"Oh shit!" Olaf gasped, bolting upright and shouting out in Icelandic to whoever it was. Guy and Gunnar sat up too, looking to the clock. It was half ten. “Ve overslept…”

"I am so late!" Guy gasped, jumping out of the bed. "We were meant to be at the field for a work-out at nine! Oh, I am so dead! I should have brought some clean clothes with me."

"You can vear some of mine," Gunnar offered, rising just as quickly to fetch the clothing he’d just offered. "Nothing with our logo on of course but I haf some plain practise clothes too."

Guy thanked him with a quick kiss and took the boxers, black tracksuit bottoms and white t-shirt and pulled them on as quickly as he could. They were a bit big but not noticeably so.

"Ve vill see you later?" Olaf asked once all three of them were dressed and almost ready to go. Guy had pulled his Team USA jacket on over the white t-shirt. “Perhaps at the gym?”

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the gym later on and we can work out together or something," Guy agreed with a laugh, kissing each of the boys in turn. "But now I really have to go. I am going to be in so much trouble for being late and the others are never going to let me forget it!"

Sprinting as quickly as he could, his thigh muscles burning from the effort, Guy made it to the practise field in record time and dropped his bag alongside everyone else’s before jogging the last little bit and joining in with the stretch the team had been halfway through.

"Nice of you to join us.”

Coach Bombay did not sound impressed.

"Sorry coach," Guy managed to gasp out, his cheeks flushing brightly. “I…uh…overslept…”

"I trust it won’t happen again."

“No, it won’t, Coach.”

They settled back into their usual routine, Guy working hard to catch up with the others who were already well ahead of him and was so focused that he didn’t notice Portman slowly making his way across to stand almost directly beside him until the older teen spoke.

“Overslept, huh?” he chuckled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Girlfriend keep you up?”

Guy blushed, stretching down to touch his right foot for five seconds instead of answering.

"Hope she was worth being in coaches bad books."

Still Guy chose to say nothing, not trusting himself to lie convincingly given his currently frazzled nerves and exhausted state, just switched which foot he was holding onto.

"Alright everyone. Workouts over. Practise after lunch; don't bring your hockey things. You'll only need your skates," Bombay said loudly to them, an unfamiliar twinkle in his eye which made them all feel more than a little bit nervous. "Except for Guy, of course. Guy, you are going to continue your workout with me to make up for the time you missed by being late."

His friends laughed, patting him on the back sympathetically before leaving.

No one wanted a one on one work out with Coach Bombay when they were in his good books let alone when they’d done something wrong because quite simply no one could keep up with a one on one workout with him. Guy watched them all grab their bags and head back to their rooms, guzzling down water, before turning to face his coach with a sigh.

"Care to explain why you alone were late?" Bombay asked, beginning one of the intermediate level stretches that Guy automatically copied. “It must have been important…”

"I really did oversleep, Coach," Guy mumbled, looking at the grass beneath him. “I’m sorry.”

"You expect me to believe that you managed to oversleep in a room with five other people who I’m pretty sure would have tried to wake you if you’d managed to somehow sleep through all the noise they make first thing in the morning,” Bombay muttered, clearly not believe what was in fact the truth of the matter. “Care to try again, Guy?”

"I did oversleep. I just…wasn't in the dorm with the rest of them," Guy admitted quietly, copying Bombay as he switched stretches, "I stayed in someone else's room last night."

"Someone else’s room?" Bombay asked slowly, still holding the stretch. “A girls?”

"N-No."

"So you’re trying to tell me that you _didn't_ break the law and have underage sex last night?"

As one they abandoned their stretches, moving to face each other as Guy answered softly,

"I didn't have sex with a girl last night coach."

He was blushing so deeply that it felt as though his cheeks were literally burning.

"Ok,” Coach Bombay murmured thoughtfully. “What about a boy?”

"What?" Guy gasped, this the last thing that he expected his coach to say. “I…”

"I'm not blind, narrow minded or pig headed, Guy,” Bombay told him. “What about a boy?"

Guy’s eyes fell to the ground as he worried his lip with his teeth, not answering this time.

"So that's a yes, then?” Bombay asked softly. “Guy, I need to know."

Guy nodded, beginning to tremble.

Bombay walked up to stand right in front of him.

"Guy I have only three things to say to you,” his coach announced calmly, ducking down until Guy’s eyes met his and then standing back up normally, their locked gaze forcing Guy to raise his head up properly. “If it makes you happy to be with a boy then don't let anyone tell you otherwise. However you shouldn't be having sex yet. It's illegal. And the last thing I need to tell you is that if you do decide to continue having sex then you need to be careful, not only because it breaks the law but because of the dangers to yourself, to your body."

"I-I know coach," Guy was so embarrassed he could barely speak. “I’m…careful. I promise.”

For a long moment Coach Bombay simply studied him, his eyes moving across Guy’s body as he searched for any signs that the teenager wasn’t being truthful but finding no evidence.

“Ok,” he eventually muttered. “As I said it’s your decision and I won’t pressure you any more about it…so long as it doesn’t affect your training or your performance on the ice.”

“Yes, Coach,” Guy mumbled quickly. “Thank you, Coach.”

“Right, now let's finish our workout so you can have a little free time before lunch.”

~ * ~ * ~

Stepping onto the ice in their street clothes was something they hadn't done in a long time, not since the beginning of their training for Team USA. It felt good to be so relaxed again.

Bombay stopped expertly beside the team bench, gesturing for them to gather around him.

"This is our last team practise which means…"

Averman interrupted their coach mere moments after he’d started speaking,

"The return of Captain Blood."

"No," Bombay said, glaring fondly at the loud mouth of his team. "Let’s have some fun!"

Reaching down behind the barrier he picked up a beach ball, of all things, and threw it into the air and the muck about session began, everyone settling into their carefree ways again.

It was the most fun they’d had on the ice in weeks so of course it couldn’t last…

Guy watched in disappointed horror as the beach ball, which had been knocked away by Averman, rolled across the ice and came to a stop at the feet of the Iceland team which had seemingly appeared from nowhere whilst they had been enjoying themselves.

Both teams stared across at each other as Coach Stansson calmly reached down to pick up the beach ball, holding it between his gloved hands for a moment before pressing them together in order to squeeze all of the air out in one single seemingly effortless motion.

"Playtime is over. We have the ice now," Stansson growled as he and his team crossed the final bit of ice placing them in front of the Ducks. "You and your little rink rates must leave."

The Ducks, Guy included, did not appreciate being called names.

It was difficult to be discrete with so many pairs of eyes towards him but somehow he managed to meet both Gunnar and Olaf’s eyes, shooting them worried frowns and received apologetic grimaces in response. They didn’t want to be there but they had no choice.

Portman leaned forwards, announcing loudly,

"We're right here coach.”

Bombay snorted loudly.

"The only thing little was your career in the Pro's."

Guy didn’t join in with his friend’s laughter, his gaze flickering back and forth between Gunnar and Olaf as the pair of them shifted uncomfortably on either side of the coach.

"Gordon, no,” McKay spoke gently, tugging on Bombay’s arm not wanting a fight. “Let’s go."

"At least I had a shot,” Stansson sneered, getting right into Bombay’s face. “I was there."

Bombay scoffed loudly.

"You were a disgrace."

What followed was an almost unbearably long silence in which Guy once again made eye contact with his lovers, silently asking them what was going on, what were they doing here.

Both of them looked purposefully towards their coach, warning Guy that this was all him.

"Alright, team, we're out of here," Bombay finally ended the silence, turning away from Stansson. Not a single member of Team USA moved. "Let's go, I said. Come on."

"You can still move on the ice? Well please, play a little with me," Coach Stansson taunted Bombay who paused in trying to get the Ducks to leave. Stansson grinned cruelly, "Show me that famous triple deke that your daddy taught you. Or was it that old geezer over there."

He meant Jan.

Guy wasn't the only one of the Ducks that wanted to kill Stansson for insulting one of the team’s two mentors and friends. Jan and Hans had always been there for the Ducks with their shop, heck Hans had been the one to kit them out with all their kit back when they were still District Five becoming the Ducks. No one was going to get away with insulting Jan.

"Marria.”

Guy hoped he wasn’t the only one who saw how a number of his players flinched when he used that particular ton of voice, snatching the stick the blonde woman held out for him out of her hand. In a blink and you’ll miss it move he’d thrown the stick towards Bombay.

"Three bar. First one to hit both posts and the cross bar,” Bombay explained clearly, picking a game he thought he could win even with his injury. “Have to take it out past the blue line.”

Stansson sneered across at him.

"I know the game."

What followed could never have been called a fair game, even by a blind man.

Sure it started out reasonably but when Stansson realised there was actually a very good chance of him being beaten the rules changed. It wasn't long after Bombay had scored his second goal making it 2 – 1 to the Ducks when Stansson played the dirtiest trick.

He lashed out with his stick and hit Bombay in the knee, in his bad knee.

Bombay cried out in pain as he went down, collapsing onto the ice.

Moving as one the Ducks rushed to help him, gathering around the injured man worriedly. Guy took the opportunity to glance back towards Gunnar and Olaf as the others were helping their Coach back to his feet and he was relieved to find them both looking worried.

Sadly neither of them looked shocked.

Obviously they’d been expecting something to happen but hadn’t known exactly what.

"Get your coach off the ice. We have to practise now."

~ * ~

Guy let himself into the room silently finding it empty.

Obviously the Iceland practise was running late into the evening as it was long after the rest of his room had gone to sleep that Guy had finally managed to sneak out. Letting out a deep sigh he slowly stripped down to his boxers, pausing every now and then as he fought against an uncontrollable bout of yawning, but soon he was able to slip between the cool sheets.

He was asleep within minutes, so asleep that he didn't wake when his lovers finally stumbled in, exhausted from their unreasonably long and difficult practise. He didn't even wake as they curled up on either side of him and gently manoeuvred his body into place, just shifted around to get more comfortable in the warm embrace now surrounding him.

 

 **A/N** For those of you who read the original version of this, yes, I did combine chapters one and two together but I also did some careful editing to make it flow just a little better than it did before. I’ve now got a plan in place for the rest of the story so it shouldn’t take me too long (famous last words, I know…) to get this finished. Comments definitely welcome. X


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything, I’m just borrowing them for the purpose of this story.

 **Summary:** Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…

**Warnings: SLASH! THREESOME! UNDERAGE!**

**~ THE SECRET LIFE OF GUY GERMAINE ~**

**~ CHAPTER TWO ~**

Olaf was the first one to wake up the following morning, letting out a deep sigh as he automatically tightened his grip on the body in his arms, pulling his lover closer to his side.

Guy mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Olaf's shoulder, but remained soundly asleep.

Gunnar on the other hand woke up, instinctively missing the warmth of Guy’s body once it had been removed from his side. He blinked a couple of times, clearing the sleep from his eyes, before he focused on the image of his two lovers curled up together in front of him.

“Olaf?” he murmured softly as he caught sight of the blonde’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“We go home today,” Olaf responded sorrowfully. “We go home to Reykjavik, Iceland, he goes home to St Paul, Minnesota. Can we continue our relationship from so far apart?"

"Whas goin' on?" Guy mumbled sleepily, arching his back like a cat begging for a tummy rub and rubbing at his eyes as he woke reluctantly. "S'it time t' get up now?"

"Olaf and I have been thinking…"

"Dangerous…”

"After today ve vill be going home and there vill be many, many miles between us," Gunnar and Olaf sat up slowly as Gunnar talked, crossing their legs Indian style. Guy, frowning worriedly, moved to sit on top of the pillows as the other two faced him. "Ve…ve vant to know if you vant to try and keep vat ve have at the moment going ven ve are so far apart?"

Every single piece of improvement he had made on his English over the past few weeks seemed to have turned back as he grew more nervous, his _W_ ’s all comings out as _V_ ’s.

"…do you want to keep it going?"

"Yes," Gunnar said with a nod, his hair falling into his eyes as Guy looked to Olaf, "Yes."

“Then I would very much like to keep what we have going,” Guy announced somewhat breathlessly as he offered them a shy smile. "We can stay in contact by phone and by email and even by snail mail. And we can visit of course, I'll get a weekend job so I can buy at ticket, you can share my room when you come to visit…if you want to come to visit that it…"

His voice trailed off as he realised just how much his mouth had run away with him.

"Of course ve vill visit!" Olaf cried out sincerely. "As often as ve can afford to!"

"Olaf and I plan to get an apartment of our own ven ve finish school. You vill always be velcome there," Gunnar explained softly, reaching out the run his knuckles along Guy's jaw gently. Guy leaned into the touch with a goofy smile on his face. "Now ve haf a little time before we must get up and go to our teams. How vould you like to spend that time?"

"Well I can think of one way I'd like to pass the time," Guy murmured, his smile becoming more flirtatious as he crawled across the bed, ending up in Olaf’s lap. “If you’re up for it…”

"I like the sound of that…"

~ * ~

Guy ended up being the last to arrive at the locker room due to the fact that his “playtime” with Gunnar and Olaf had gone on a little bit longer than they'd anticipated.

He was pretty sure that his lovers would be the last to arrive in their own locker room too.

His friends gave him a look as he ducked into the room and quickly began stripping out of his street clothes, especially the boys in his room. Out all-night _and_ late to the locker room?

They all knew something was going on with him, what with him admitting that he’d been going on “dates” with someone but, quite understandably, they all thought that it was girl.

Last he'd heard Fulton and Portman were taking bets on which of the figure skaters it was.

In the end he had to avoid the subject of his night-time activities three times in the time it took him to change into his kit from three different people; Portman, Fulton and Connie.

Connie had been the hardest on to deal with.

_"So…I hear you've got a girlfriend?"_

_“Um…”_

_"It’s just…the boys said you've been staying out all night with some girl but they wouldn’t say who so…who is she? Is it…it’s not Julie, is it? Not that it's any of my business if it is…"_

_"You're right, it's not any of your business.”_

_"…are you having sex?"_

_"What if I am?"_

_"Then why didn't we…why couldn't we…"_

_"I wasn't ready then…”_

_"But you are now?"_

_"Yes."_

She'd looked away awkwardly and the two of them had continued to get ready in silence.

It was at this precise moment that the door swung open unexpectedly and Adam walked in carrying his duffel bag in one hand and his hockey stick in the other, calling out for Coach Bombay as he made his way into the room with a single-minded determination.

"I woke up and the pain was gone."

His announcement was accompanied with a demonstration, dropping his bag and holding out his stick in his previously injured arm and rotating it, first one way and then the other.

Not a single trace of pain showed in his face.

A loud cheer went around the locker room but Guy was watching Bombay.

His face had just fallen.

"Adam, I'm sorry but we already have a full roster."

They couldn't help it, the teams eyes went from Adam to Russ in an instant.

Their newest teammate sighed deeply, his eyes falling to the floor as he began to pull of his jersey, the jersey which he had been so proud of since putting it on for the first time.

Charlie reached out and stopped him before he could actually pull it off.

"He can have my spot," Charlie's voice was a little thick as he stepped forward, making his way over to Adam and Bombay. "If it's what I can do for the team, let me do it."

Reaching out Adam touched his shoulder in an almost apologetic thanks, receiving a comforting hand on his waist, of all places, in an obvious show of reassurance.

"Charlie," Bombay sounded almost proud as he smiled across at Charlie, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze. "I need you on the bench, coaching. Right there with me."

That got the biggest cheer yet.

~ * ~

Checking his kit one final time Guy stepped out ono the ice, following the rest of his team as they settled into their usual warm up routine. As surreptitiously as he could he glanced towards the other end of the rink, his eyes searching out the familiar figures of his lovers and a brilliant smile appeared on his face as he caught them doing exactly the same thing.

Once they were finished warming up the team head over to their bench where Bombay was waiting for them, encouraging them to gather around him in a circle and put their hands in. Sharing cheerful grins the team obeyed, laying their hands on top of each at the exact same time that the Iceland team formed their own huddle on the other side of the clear barrier.

"Heads high, stand tall, fly straight…” Bombay chanted, smiling around at his team. “USA…"

_"ALL THE WAY!"_

The crowd responded to their synchronised voices by cheering wildly, almost completely drowning out their opponent’s cry of “ _IIIIIICELAND!”_ and then it was time for the starting line-up to take their places on the ice. Guy chanced a glance across at his lovers as he took his place, the three of them sharing an encouraging smile before settling into game mode.

It was a brutal first period in more ways than one.

Coach Stansson was using his player’s bigger size to their full advantage, encouraging them to be as violent and brutal as the game would allow and as such Guy and his friends were taking agonizing hits and falls almost constantly all over the ice, some of which _really_ hurt.

One in particular hurt him more than any other, Olaf checking him into the boards with enough force to drive the air out of his lungs. The emotional pain he felt was no less painful, his brain reminding him of their agreement not to treat each other any differently.

It was shortly after that that the Iceland team managed to score the first goal of the game, one of their players actually tripping Goldberg in order to get themselves an empty net.

It was Olaf who sneered down at Goldberg’s prone form,

"Hey, too slow big boy!"

Guy looked away, ashamed for his lover.

Gunnar was looking away too.

It was just like last time; Olaf was getting too far into Stansson’s way of playing.

Mean.

He was so focused on his boyfriend that he nearly jumped a mile when Bombay’s voice assaulted his hearing, not having noticed the Coach moving to stand beside him,

"Line change!”

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Guy, Jesse, Russ,” Coach Bombay murmured down at the three of them. “You ready?"

"Yeah.”

Contrary to his response Russ sure as hell didn't sound ready.

"Get out there."

Unfortunately for them changing the line-up didn’t seem to make a blind bit of difference.

Russ managed to get hold of the puck at one point but he lost it just as quickly, missing his chance to even the score between the two teams. Shortly after that Adam was sent on, managing to get hold of puck only for something truly unbelievable to happen…

“Olaf…” Guy breathed in shock as he watched Olaf deliberately target Adam’s bad wrist, coming to an abrupt halt beside Gunnar who appeared to be in a similar state of shock.

They shared a brief glance before they moved apart, heading for their respective teams.

“Hey, Ref, why don’t you call something for crying out loud?” Bombay demanded angrily as Guy skated past the team bench, gesturing towards Olaf. “He almost took his arm off!”

In the end Olaf was led over to the penalty box by the harassed looking referee.

"That'll be two minutes son.”

"Two minutes?” Olaf sneered loudly, offering the ref a smirk. “Well worth it."

"Get in the box you big goon!" Ken, of all people, snapped at Olaf as he passed the penalty box. Guy couldn’t blame him. He’d known that Olaf got way too into a game, or more specifically in Stansson’s way of playing a game but deliberately going after an earlier injury?

That just wasn't on.

Apparently Gunnar thought so too if his look of disgust was anything to go by.

Guy followed Adam to the bench and watched Coach helped the injured skater to a seat as he took his own, taking a drink of water from one of the many water bottles. Bombay took Adam's helmet off for him as the boy took off his glove, staring down at the injured wrist.

"I'm ok," Adam announced a little breathlessly.

He seemed as surprised as everyone else that he hadn’t been injured a second time.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. He just hit the pad," Adam tried to reassure them, his voice as firm as he could make it. Bombay looked like he didn't believe him and with good reason. "Really."

Adding his voice to the cacophony of voices expressing their concern for their friend and teammate Guy only quietened down when Bombay spoke up once more after a long pause.

"Way to hang in there Adam, great playing."

~ * ~

Much to everyone’s disappointment the game continued to go from bad to worse for Team USA. Dwayne lost the puck due to his idiotic showmanship and Iceland made a break for it but Luis, the only player who was anywhere near fast enough to catch them, tripped over his own skates, sending him crashing into the player just as the puck glided into the net.

“Show me the _Flying V_!” Bombay called out in desperation, obviously hoping that one of their tried and tested plays would succeed in breaking through the Iceland’s line. “Let’s go!”

It didn’t work.

The _Flying V_ was completely destroyed and the Vikings scored again.

It was a relief to every single member of Team USA when the buzzer went off, signalling the end of the period. It was even more of a relief to be able to rest and regroup in the privacy of their changing room, guzzling water and debating tactics in an effort to raise their spirits.

Stepping out onto the ice for the second time it quickly became painfully obvious that Olaf was still very much stuck in his _“Coach Stansson approved”_ game mentality, taking out as many players as could with several barely legal moves which somehow got past the referee.

Averman attempted to use his usual tactic of chatting his opponent to death but as the opponent in question was Gunnar it came as no surprise to Guy when it didn’t work.

Then it was the Bash Brothers turn to take on their rivals.

"Party!"

And party they did.

Guy watched from the bench with an eager smile on his face as they took out player after player, as they bumped their chests together, as they behaved just like themselves.

And boy did they have the crowd behind them.

Goldberg received a huge cheer when he managed to stop the next attack on his net.

It was at this point in the game that Charlie proposed a crazy new style of play.

Gone was the familiar “thinking outside the box” thinking that Bombay had encouraged them to embrace, now it was time for Charlie’s “thinking in a whole different universe.”

Just like he’d been instructed to by his friends Ken got hold of the puck, launching it across the ice towards Fulton before he set about using his figure skating skills to distract the Iceland defence line as he launched himself over the top of them with practised ease.

Grinning from ear to ear Fulton passed the puck back to Ken who ducked around the stunned defenceman before using his credible hockey skills to send the puck passed the equally stunned goalie and into the back of the neck, the buzzer sounding instantly.

“What d'you think of that?” he challenged the frustrated goalie. “Pretty sweet huh?"

Throwing down his stick the goalie tried to grab hold of Ken but the younger boy darted out of his way smirking as he proceeded to pull the move that Russ’ brother had taught him during their friendly game of street hockey, adding in a few punches for good measure.

It was as impressive as the goal itself had been.

“What are you doing out there?” Stansson’s angry voice pulled his attention away from Ken’s moment of glory. He turned his head, frowning as he saw both Gunnar and Olaf wince as their coach physically dragged them down onto the bench by their shoulders. “Wake up!”

Ken was sent to the penalty box for “unsportsmanlike behaviour” which unfortunately had the side effect of setting the _Bash Brothers_ off. They worked together, taunting the Iceland team as they skated past their bench, smacking the tops of their helmets as they passed.

To say the Icelanders were pissed was an understatement but…well…they deserved it.

Soon enough they were in the box too, cheering wildly and climbing the walls alongside Ken.

“Olaf!”

Guy glanced across just in time to see his lover jump to his feet, standing perfectly still even as Stansson grabbed his helmet and screamed at him, punctuating each word by dragging Olaf’s head around in a move which would have been termed abusive had Bombay ever dreamed of doing something like that to one of his players before shoving him onto the ice.

Anyone could see the way he had zeroed his focus in on Connie as she stepped onto the ice.

Before he could even think of warning her Charlie moved, gently grabbing hold of her arm.

"Connie, be careful out there, they're gunning for you."

Unfortunately for them Connie was notorious for not taking warning as seriously as she should and shrugged off his hand, glancing back at them over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t fine.

Olaf took her out moments after the puck was dropped and laughed down at her.

It was painful to sit there and watch his lover become the same monstrous stranger he had unwillingly transformed into the last time they had played under the orders of his Coach.

And then the game reached a whole new layer of crazy.

Connie intercepted the puck but got stuck trying to get it off the boards, trying to free it with both her stick and the blades of her skates but nothing worked. Laughing loud enough for everyone to hear Olaf made a showing of lining himself up before starting towards her at such a speed that he really would have done her serious harm had Dwayne not interceded.

Their resident cowboy grabbed the length of tightly woven rope he kept with him as a good luck charm, hopped out onto the ice without even putting on his helmet and proceeded to lasso Olaf just as he had lassoed all of them in training although with Olaf he pulled the rope tight, stopping the older teen in his track moments before he crashed into Connie.

Chuckling softly Guy watched as Olaf was pulled backwards, landing on his back with a thud before letting out a startled cry as Dwayne used the rope to pull him back across the ice.

"Get up there!” Dwayne shouted, his accent thickening if that was at all possible as he pulled Olaf up to feet, his arms still trapped to his sides by the rope which was still wound tightly around his chest. “Where I come from we treat ladies with respect!"

“Thank you, Dwayne,” Connie smiled across at her boyfriend as she abandoned the puck by the boards in favour of moving to face off against Olaf. “But I’m no lady, I’m a Duck!”

The crowd let out a small cheer when she reached out and shoved Olaf as hard as she could, sending the much larger teen falling back onto the ice once more just as the referee arrived to lead Dwayne over to the penalty box, taking hold of the southern teen by the arm.

Dwayne laughed happily, looking over his shoulder at Connie as he was led away.

“Way to go, you little filly!”

If the smile that she sent his way as she obeyed Bombay’s order for her to return to the bench was anything to go by then there was a pretty good chance that _‘little filly’_ was her pet name and Guy shuddered as, unbidden, his mind wondered if he called her that during…

Ew. No, not going there. Definitely not going there.

"I'll get you!" Olaf cried out angrily, struggling to get back to his feet and follow her but the length of rope kept tripping him. Eventually Gunnar went over, taking pity on him and helped him out of the rope just as Guy stepped onto the ice. “I’ll get you, you filthy little…”

"Olaf, calm down love," he murmured quietly, squeezing his lover's elbow. Guy skated past them on purpose, meeting their gazes quickly. The second period ended soon after and the two teams retired to their changing rooms for a much needed and well-deserved breather.

~ * ~ * ~

As soon as he reached the locker room Guy grabbed one of the clean towels, wiping the sweat from his face and neck as he took his seat in front of the locker he’d used that day.

“You all enjoy that?” Bombay asked as she strode into the changing room, looking around at the team who were either guzzling water or wiping themselves down like Guy. The response he received was loud and cheerful, everyone still hyped up from Dwayne's moment of ridiculous glory and Ken's spirited attack on the tough looking goalie. "Ok, well, so did they. Because they're still three points up and we're one period away from defeat."

And there went the good mood of the team as the heavy thoughts settled in.

It was Jesse who responded first from where he had just stripped off his hockey jersey,

"Well if we can't beat them we might as well keep our pride.”

"Jesse, that's not pride,” Bombay sighed deeply, looking around at each member of the team, his expression torn. “Sure when Dwayne roped that big oaf part of me cheered.”

Guy flinched, ducking to hide his expression as he fought from defending his boyfriend despite the other teen’s despicable behaviour on the ice. Only one person called him on his flinch and that was Connie who had taken the seat beside him but he brushed off her silent concern by gesturing at the cut he had received to his left eyebrow during a nasty scuffle.

She responded by grabbing one of the little first aid kits scattered around the room, opening it up and retrieving an antiseptic wipe which she used to wipe away the drying blood.

"But guys I've been there, I know how you feel. I wanted to cream that jerk that busted my knee when I played in the minors. And I really, really wanted to go after Stansson for that cheap shot,” Bombay continued, his gaze flickering to where Connie was now using a strip of microporous surgical tape to temporarily close the wound. He offered her a nod of approval before continuing with his speech. "But you know what? My knee will heal. But if I become someone I'm not, if I sink to their level…then I've lost more than my knee. You understand?"

"Yeah…”

"We're not goons, we're not bullies. No matter what people say or do we have to be ourselves," Bombay concluded, pausing to point towards Portman. "You, who are you?"

Like he didn't already know…

"Dean Portman.”

"From where?"

"Chicago, Illinois."

"You?"

It took Guy a moment to realise that Bombay had gestured towards him this time.

"Guy Germaine.”

"From where?"

"Er-"

It was slightly worrying that he genuinely had to think about where he was from, his hand reaching up to push against the edges of the tape on his eye as he finally formed his answer.

"St Paul, Minnesota."

Bombay's hand moved so that he was pointing to Jesse.

"You?"

"Jesse Hall from Minneapolis, Minnesota."

Next Bombay gestured towards Julie who had yet to set foot on the ice in a single game.

"Who are you?"

"Julie Gaffney from Bangor, Maine."

Bombay pointed at Luis who, unlike all those before him, stood up as he answered.

"Luis Mendoza, Miami, Florida."

And that started it, Bombay didn't even have to point at them anymore, the remaining players volunteering the information eagerly and jumped to their feet when they did so. Guy, along with all of the others who had offered up their answers before now, stood when their friends did and purely by accident Guy found himself standing when Connie answered.

"Greg Goldberg, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."

"Les Averman, Brooklyn Park, Minnesota."

"Fulton Reed, Still Water, Minnesota."

"Russ Tyler, South Central, Los Angeles."

"Charlie Conway, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Ken Wu, San Francisco, California."

"Connie Monroe, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

"Adam Banks, Edina, Minnesota."

"Dwayne Robertson, Austin, Texas."

That was it, all the players in the team had spoken but it didn't end there. Miss McKay, the plucky young woman who had begun these games as nothing more than their tutor but was ending them as one of their assistant coaches and most loyal confidantes stepped forwards.

"Michelle McKay, Duluth, Minnesota."

Coach Bombay’s shot her a thankful smile before grinning broadly towards his loyal team.

"And I'm Gordon Bombay, Minneapolis, Minnesota."

Unsurprisingly the teams response to this final statement, Guy’s included, was to break out into rapturous applause punctuated with wild cheers much to their coaches approval.

"We're Team USA, gathered from all across America,” he announced once the cheering had calmed down somewhat. “And we're going to stick together. D'you know why?"

A deep voice answered before any of the players could even try to come up with an answer, drawing all of their attention to the grey hair man who had come all this way to help them.

“Because we are Ducks,” Jan stated from where he was stood. “And Ducks fly together.”

“That’s right, Jan,” Coach Bombay agreed brightly, offering the kind-hearted man who had helped him to regain his senses when he’d lost himself to the spectacle and the fame a smile over his shoulder. "And just when you think they're about to break apart…"

Guy and his fellow teammates needed no prompting to finish their coach’s sentence.

"Ducks fly together!"

"And when the wind blows hard and the sky is black?"

This time it was McKay who spoke up, moving to join Bombay and Jan whilst offering the team a smile which no doubt would have made most of the boy’s heart thump wildly. He was pretty sure it would have done the same to him too, once upon a time, but the only smiles that made his heart jump or his stomach clench were Gunnar and Olaf’s.

"Ducks fly together!"

"And when the roosters are crowing and the cows are spinning circles in the pasture?" Dwayne asked eagerly, looking around at his friends and teammates who made confused noises and looked at him strangely. Connie blushed at her boyfriend's strange tendencies.

"Ok…" Bombay laughed, waving his hands to get the team to join in,

"Ducks fly together!"

"And when everyone says it can't be done,” Bombay finished seriously. “Ducks fly together."

Evidently Bombay had reached the point of his pep talk, and he was right. Everyone _was_ saying it couldn't be done. Everyone said we'd never be able to beat the un-beatable team.

"Now new Ducks and old Ducks must unite ender a new banner," Jan spoke up, smiling broadly as he reached down to unzip coat. "And I thought perhaps something like this."

~ * ~ * ~

As they stepped out onto the ice in their new uniforms, so completely and utterly different to the ones they had been wearing for the first two periods of the games, the crowd reacted with outcries of surprise and approval as they realised exactly what had happened.

The Mighty Ducks were back.

Of course Stansson was not happy, he could be seen arguing with the referee, his hand gestures big and angry. Guy searched for Gunnar and Olaf with his eyes and when he found them both of them gave discreet thumbs up while tugging on their own black jerseys.

He couldn't help chuckling to himself as he joined his friends skating round the ice as a quick warm-up before the final period. Their opponent's best players liked their new jerseys.

"Come on in Ducks!" Bombay called out, gesturing for them to gather around their team bench. "The referee's just explained that there's no rule about changing uniforms and surprise, surprise Stansson is pissed. He thought he had a way to win the match early."

The team chuckled at that.

"Now, everyone's hands in,” Bombay instructed. “Quack! Quack! Quack!…"

"…Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! _Gooooo Ducks!_ "

Oh, yes, the Mighty Ducks were definitely back!

The Iceland teams generic cheer of _'Iceland!'_ had absolutely nothing on theirs, especially not when it had to compete with the crowds impromptu rendition of “ _We Will Quack You!_ ” which he hadn’t heard since they’d won the Peewee Championships back home.

Focusing on the game he mentally cheered as they won the face off but then he found himself in the thick of it, Ken passing the puck his way. Looking quickly he found only Connie open and so he willingly passed it to his ex-girlfriend and cheered as she managed to score.

He wasn't the only one who cheered, either, but who could really blame them?

Their opponents get hold of the puck and no matter how hard the Duck’s worked they couldn’t stop them from making it across the ice and taking a shot at the Duck’s goal.

Only there was Goldberg, pulling off a spectacular dive in order to stop them scoring.

It was brilliant but unfortunately the next time they got a chance to score again they succeeded, Gunnar using his considerable skills to get past all of their defences and deliver the puck to the back of the net. Their supporters, what little there were, went wild over it.

Having yielded another goal it was decided that it was time for them to implement another one of the utterly insane plays Charlie had spent his time coming up with. Just like their earlier play utilising Ken’s figure skating skills this latest play shouldn’t have worked.

And yet it did…

Adam successfully passed the puck to Dwayne, the cowboy instantly launching it up into the air with enough force that it landed in exactly where it was meant to directly in front of the stunned Iceland goalie which meant that, even though Adam was tripped up before he managed to get to it, it bounced in of its own accord after passing between the goalies legs.

“Impressive…”

Smiling after Gunnar who had cut him off in a move which had appeared mean but had in fact been an excuse to get close enough to his younger boyfriend so as to be heard over the celebrating crowd Guy fought to school his expression into a neutral expression before returning to his position as the referee called for the game to continue.

After their goal the game got rougher, a lot rougher.

He was thankful that neither of his lovers were on the ice when he finally managed to get hold of the puck and ducked behind the back of their own net in a desperate attempt to avoid the worst of the Icelanders bearing down on his position with murder in mind.

It didn’t work.

He was just starting to look for someone to pass the puck to when one of the many Icelanders reached him, ducking down so as to drive his shoulder into Guy’s stomach. A grunt of pain burst out of his mouth as his body was launched involuntarily into the air, flipping over the larger player before crashing down onto the ice with back breaking force.

“Ugh!”

Oh…

That had hurt…

It took him a long moment to recover from the painful incident, during which time Luis had managed to dart forwards and snatch the puck away from the Iceland player who had hit Guy before taking off towards the opposite end of the rink at a terrifying speed.

Clutching a hand to his aching stomach Guy watched in horror, anticipating the violent crash which usually accompanied the other boy’s attempts to score only to be completely and utterly surprised by the impressive halt that Luis pulled off, spraying ice all over the goalie.

"I stopped!"

None of them could blame Luis for looking so shocked by his own achievement.

Bombay laughed loudly before calling out,

"Put it in, Luis!"

Responding instinctively Luis did just that and the audience went completely wild, the cheering becoming almost hysterical as the stunned teen was mobbed by his teammates.

Guy was relieved when Bombay called him off so that Russ could take his place, his body aching more than he would have liked following his run it with the Iceland player. He sat with an arm wrapped around his stomach and watched as Russ, within moments of stepping out onto the ice, was pinned by three of their opponents. A smirking Olaf was one of them.

"Time out! Time out!" Bombay called out loudly, making the well-known ' _T_ ' signal with his hands. He then went on to gesture for everyone on the ice, Goldberg included, to gather around the bench where Guy and all of the others were waiting. "Listen up, this is what I want to do. I want someone, anyone, to get the puck and I want you to get it to Goldberg."

" _Me_ coach?" Goldberg asked, understandably confused.

"Technically," Bombay chuckled. "Russ, think you can stand being goalie for a few minutes."

Offering them a grin Bombay chuckled once more when the two loud mouths of the team hurriedly obeyed his instructions to swap jerseys, pads and sticks while their giggling teammates huddled around them, pretending that Bombay was still explaining something to them in order to hide the unusual move currently being pulled by their team.

Guy found himself back on the ice for this strange play, successfully winning the puck from his opponent in the initial face-off, and after realising that there was no way he could get the puck to “Goldberg” he chose instead to pass it across to Luis. It turned out this was a good decision as only seconds later he was knocked down hard by one of the Icelanders.

Thankfully Luis managed to get the puck across to “Goldberg” who had skated forwards away from the net, a wave of confused murmurs spreading throughout the crowd. Of course these confused murmurs transforming into wild cheering as “Goldberg” removed his helmet, revealing who had really taken to the ice for their latest attempt at a goal.

Averman hurriedly passed his stick to the undercover sharp shooter and before the Icelanders could react shot his now legendary knuckle puck straight into the opposite goal.

The buzzer signalling the end of the period sounded almost immediately after the goal was recognised and it wasn’t just the crowd that went wild, the Duck’s did as well.

They had done it!

They had come from behind to tie the game meaning only one thing – a shootout.

~ * ~ * ~

"Ok, Ducks, we have a chance to win here," Coach Bombay told them seriously as they gathered around their team bench, looking around at each of their eager faces. Everyone wants to be given a shot but only five of them would be given the opportunity to defeat their rivals. "I've chosen the five of you that were best at scoring consistently in training.”

It couldn’t have been easy for him to make such an important choice in so little time.

“Jesse," he finally announced his first choice, looking towards one of the most outspoken members of their team who nodded in acknowledgement, his expression serious. "Guy."

Guy jumped a little in surprise when he heard his name come out of his Coaches mouth.

"Yeah, coach?" he asked automatically, realising seconds later that it was a stupid thing to do as his friends laughed, nudging him in the side as they rolled their eyes towards him.

"You're up second.”

"Oh…” Guy mumbled, frowning as he looked over towards his lovers and saw Stansson shouting at his team whilst pointing out five of them, Gunnar and Olaf included. “Ok…”

"Dwayne, you're third. Fulton, fourth," Bombay continued in his much gentler manner, nodding towards both of the boys in question. "And Adam, you're last. Do us proud Ducks."

~ * ~ * ~

The knowledge that he was up second left him a nervous wreck for the duration of Jesse’s triumphant moment on the ice, his friend celebrating loudly as he returned to the bench while the first of the Iceland players took his place on the centre line facing Goldberg.

“Fantastic effort, Jesse!” Bombay congratulated him as he returned. “You’re up next, Guy.”

Unfortunately for them Number 74, Scheving, successfully managed to get the puck past Goldberg’s defence with an admittedly impressive move leaving them tied at one all.

All too soon it was his turn to take to the ice.

Trying to ignore the pressure being put on him by the crowd and by his team he prepared for his shot, choosing to skate up to the puck instead of kicking it like Jesse had before him.

He also decided to go for a simple shot instead of something fancier to impress the scouts.

What did it matter to him if the scouts liked him?

In the end it came down to luck. Keeping his eyes focused on the puck he dragged it across the ice before launching it towards the goal, coming to a halt as the goalie tried and failed to catch it with his glove. The buzzer sounded. The board recording the score changed.

He’d done it.

Literally sagging with relief he made his way back towards the team bench, smiling around at his friends as they cheered and hugged him, some of them patting him on the back.

The second Iceland player, a monster of a young man whose name was Briem according to his shirt, took his shot whilst Guy was pulling of his helmet and miraculously he failed to score, Goldberg’s save causing just as much cheering as Jesse and Guy’s goals had.

Sadly Dwayne’s attempt at scoring, following some of his usual fancy puck/foot/stick work which at that point was more annoying than impressive, was thwarted by the Iceland goalie.

Olaf skated out next for Iceland and Guy found himself torn between his loyalty for his team and the love he felt for his boyfriend, knowing how important it was for the older boy to impress the scouts so as to get into Reykjavik University like he and Gunner wanted to.

Half of him wanted Olaf to score and the other half wanted him to miss.

In the end he closed his eyes, turning his head away from the action and didn't watch.

His team-mates unhappy grown was enough to let him know that Olaf had been successful in his attempt to score even before the buzzer had gone off confirming it once and for all.

Fulton was up next. This meant they had a one in four chance of getting ahead of the Iceland team, both teams currently having two goals to their name in the final shootout.

He lined up his shot and Guy couldn’t blame the Iceland goalie for looking a little nervous.

After all who wanted to face up against one of Fulton’s slap-shots but to give the goalie his dues he stood there, he didn’t flinch away to the point that the puck actually struck him in the centre of his forehead, knocking him onto his back with the puck falling into the goal.

He’d done it. They were ahead again.

Now they just needed to stay that way…

And so when Stefan, the owner of the number five jersey for the Iceland Team, managed to get the puck past Goldberg and into the back of the net there was a huge sigh of disappointment even as the Iceland supporters let out a cheer as they equalised the score.

“Come on, Adam,” Charlie muttered from his spot behind Guy as they watched their friend nervously making his way out onto the ice, rotating his wrist slowly before him with his stick held tightly in his hand before finally gliding to a halt. "You can do it. I know you can do it."

Adam took a deep breath before beginning his attack and Guy found himself holding his breath alongside everyone else as he watched his friend launch the puck towards the goal.

Fingers were crossed.

Silent prayers were issued.

A triumphant roar spread throughout the crowd as the puck sail past the goalies glove, hitting the back of the net before falling to the ice with a triumphant thud. Adam’s handsome face was split with a broad grin as he hurried to join his friends on their bench.

All they had to do now was stop Gunnar from scoring and they’d won the game.

Keeping his glance as discreet as possible Guy looked over towards where the third member of his unusual relationship was preparing to step onto the ice, his coach barring his way with a hand placed in the centre of Gunnar’s chest. He couldn’t hear what Stansson was saying to his star player due to the noise of the crowd, not to mention the distance and sheet of glass between them but there was no doubt in his mind that it was anything but supportive.

"Julie,” Bombay called out softly, drawing Guy’s attention back to the people around him as Julie turned to look at their coach. “You've got the fast glove. I know this kids move.”

Guy bristled on his boyfriend’s behalf at hearing him being called ‘ _this kid’_ but managed to refrain from pointing out the fact that he deserved to be known by his name, Gunnar.

"Triple deke, glove side,” Bombay explained simply. “Anticipate it and you got him."

Julie frowned.

"What if he goes stick side?"

"He's fancy. He'll go glove. Don't hesitate," he ordered her, smiling as she nodded seriously. Julie hadn’t been given the chance to show the world what she could do until now and there was no way she’d be giving this moment anything but her best. "Let's go!"

Guy watched, biting his thumbnail nervously, as Julie skated out to replace Goldberg in front of the net while Gunnar waited impatiently on centre ice, chuckling softly to himself.

Did he think she couldn't do it because she was a girl?

Guy felt a little anger swell inside of him at that thought but it was quickly replaced with the more likely thought that Gunnar was probably nervous and was trying to hide his nerves.

Turning his head he looked across at Olaf who met his gaze for a long moment, the fire fading rapidly from the older teen’s eyes now that his part in the game was over and Stansson had stopped pressuring him, before they turned their attention back to Gunnar.

Julie wasn’t the only one counting his dekes as he finally made his move towards the goal.

One…

Two…

Three…

He shot the puck towards the goal…

Julie’s glove came up and, much to everyone’s shock, the buzzer remained silent.

With a simple move she flipped the puck out of her glove onto the ice, confirming once and for all that Gunnar Stahl had not scored and that the United States of America had won.

As one the crowd went completely insane.

“We did it!” Connie screamed beside him as their friends and teammates began rushing out to join Julie on the ice, throwing her arms around him. “I can’t believe it! We’ve won!”

Turning away from him she threw herself towards her boyfriend, kissing him soundly on the lips as Guy jumped the barrier and skated out to join the chaotic celebrations on centre ice.

Julie was quickly swept up into an enthusiastic hug which devolved into little more than a team bundle which Guy purposely kept out of, looking over at his lovers instead. Stansson was literally screaming in Gunnar’s face, obviously blaming him and him alone for the fact that they’d lost the game, but Gunnar visibly squared his shoulders and stood up to him.

Turning his back on his seething coach Gunnar looked across towards Guy, offering him a smile before miming shaking hands as he and Olaf led their team out onto the ice.

“Guys!” he called out to his friends over his shoulder. “They want to shake hands.”

Ever the good sports the Ducks hastily formed a long line, mimicking their downtrodden opponents, and Guy heard the frantic clicking of the various reporter’s cameras as the two lines moved along so that they were all able to shake hands, one after the other.

When Guy finally reached Gunnar he pretended to stumble and fell against the taller teen.

"An hour’s time, your locker room?"

"We'll be there."

~ * ~ * ~

Guy paused at the door to the Iceland locker room, suddenly wanting to just leg it and not have to deal with the emotional goodbyes. But he couldn't do that to them and so, taking a painfully deep breathe, he pushed open the door and stepped inside the familiar room.

"Guy…" Olaf breathed loudly as he crossed the room and then Guy found himself pressed back against the wall by his lover's body as the taller teen all but devoured his mouth.

Guy moaned, his hands fisting in his lovers blond hair as a thigh was pushed up between his legs. They kissed passionately for a few moments, hands roaming freely, Guy grinding his body against the muscled thigh until all of a sudden the body in front of him disappeared.

He would have fallen to the floor had it not been for Gunnar, the person who had gently pulled Olaf out of the way, pressing his body against Guy's and stealing his own kiss.

"I don't want to go…" Guy mumbled against Gunnar's lips. “I don’t…”

"No talking now," Gunnar ordered softly, his strong hands lifting Guy up and encouraging Guy to wrap his legs around his waist. It reminded him so strongly of their first wonderful time together that his breath seized in his chest and tears welled up in his eyes.

He really didn't want to go home!

"No thinking either," Olaf ordered as Gunnar carried Guy over to where they had made up a bed of freshly laundered towels. He'd obviously seen Guy's face. "For now…just feel..."

Olaf helped Gunnar lay him down on the towels and then they were striping his clothes off gently, kissing his soft skin as they exposed it. They batted his hands away when he tried to remove their clothes, sending him looks that clearly told him to wait even though they said nothing. Soon Guy was naked and Gunnar's mouth trailed kissed down the centre of his chest, down his stomach until the plump lips wrapped themselves around his erection.

"Oh God!" Guy gasped as he always did, his back arching on the towels, his hands grabbing for something, anything to hold onto. Olaf chuckled and took Guys hands in his own whilst stealing the younger teens lips in an even more passionate kiss than before, bringing more moans from the younger teen as he struggled to pull his hands free. "S’not fair…"

"Vat's not fair?" Olaf asked as stole another kiss.

"You two…are wearing…way too many…clothes!" Guy groaned, pulling his hands free with a little more force than was necessary. He pulled roughly at Olaf's shirt, ripping a few of the buttons off and making Olaf groan against his lips. Olaf liked it a little rough. Gunnar smiled as he continued to work on his lover, his eyes on Olaf as Guy roughly pulled off his clothes, only breaking their kiss when necessary. "Much better…oh God…so much better…"

"But Gunnar's still…still vearing clothes," Olaf pointed out breathlessly, pressing little kisses across Guys chest as the American teen lay down once more. However that comment had him frowning, however, and leaning up on his elbows so he could call down to his lover,

"You're right…Gunnar! Why are you wearing so many clothes?"

A playful grin spread out on Guy's face that was matched by the one on Gunnar's face as the bigger teen back away from the two on the towels and began to strip, ever so slowly…

But once he was naked everything sped up, the three of them coming together in a rush of pleasure and pain and emotion and sweat. Curled around each other, pressing kisses to shoulders and necks the three of them caught their breath, holding on tight to each other.

All three were thinking the same thing, how were they going to survive the on-coming separation? Guy took a deep breath, pressing his face into Gunnar's neck as the tears began to fall, tears he'd been fighting back since the game had ended so long ago.

"Don’t cry, _elskan_ …" Gunnar murmured, his own voice trembling suspiciously as he gently tilted Guy's face up to him so that he could kiss the tears away. "It vill be ok." _(sweetheart)_

Guy shook his head and pressed his face back into Gunnar's neck, more tears falling, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Olaf became a human blanket then, kissing the back of Guy's neck while Gunnar stroked Guys still slightly damp and deliciously soft hair.

“Sorry…” Guy mumbled after a little while, leaning back out of their embrace so as to look up at the two of them, wiping away the last of his tears. "What time do you leave?"

"1am," Olaf answered softly as he stroked the warm skin of Guy's back, drawing random pictures with his fingertips. It sent a shiver running up and down his spine. "Vat about you?"

"8pm.”

Reaching across to their pile of clothes Gunnar picked up his watch.

"Forty-five minutes," he said quietly, "Haf you packed already?"

"Yeah. Shoved everything into my bag after I got changed just now," Guy answered, biting his lower lip as even more tears fell from his red-rimmed eyes. "I don't want to go home…"

"Neither do ve but you know ve must," Gunnar murmured, wiping away the fresh tears. "You haf your school and ve haf ours and then trials for the Reykjavik team. All planned."

"Stupid school…" Guy muttered petulantly. "Stupid plans…"

"I know," Gunnar sighed deeply, stroking Guy’s cheek gently. "But once everything has calmed down and ve able too ve vill something out that makes us all much happier."

Guy nodded, wiping at his own cheeks now and muttering angrily to himself,

"God look at me, crying like a girl."

"So are ve," Olaf pointed out, chuckling softly as he indicated the tear tracks on his own cheeks and the redness around Gunnar’s. "Ve are going to miss you."

"And anyvay, it's not girly to cry," Gunnar countered, using both hands to cup Guy’s jaw.

"Is."

"Not."

"Is."

"Not."

"Is. Is. I-"

Gunnar kissed the now smiling Guy to shut him up, using his body to press Guy back against Olaf's strong chest while Olaf's hands crept around to rest on Guy's taught stomach.

“Did you write down your address and phone number down for us, _elskan_?” Gunnar enquired softly when he finally broke the kiss only to find himself held in place by Olaf’s firm grip when he tried to pull away, forcing him to continue pressing Guy in between them.

Gunnar kept one hand cupping Guy’s jawline while he moved his other hand to grip Olaf’s muscular buttock, giving the mound of flesh a gentle squeeze. Olaf moaned his approval.

“Yeah…” Guy breathed out his answered as a certain part of his body ended up pressed firmly against a certain part of Gunnar’s body. “Oh...please…once more for the road?"

"Huh?"

"It's just a saying,” Guy explained, his cheeks flushing. “I don’t know where it comes from…”

"Oh…" Olaf mumbled. "Does it mean _'Let's haf sex again?'_ "

"In this instance, yes…”

"Good. Once more for the road!"

~ * ~ * ~

"I love you, both of you…" Guy murmured to his lovers after the three of them had finished dressing. "Write to me. Don't call - think of the phone bill. Just write to me when you can."

"Let us vorry about that," Olaf ordered firmly, leaving down to kiss Guy again. "I love you."

"As do I," Olaf pulled Guy into another kiss with him. "I love you."

Guy needed to leave but he really didn’t want to.

He’d already technically left it too late to make it to the coach on time, giving his friends plenty of ammunition with which to tease him with as they’d all know what he was late.

"So…I guess this is goodbye then…"

"No. Not goodbye,” Gunnar countered firmly. “Only…see you soon."

Guy beamed at the pair of them, reaching out and taking one of their hands in his.

"See you soon."

~ * ~ * ~

 **A/N** Ok, this has had some MAJOR editing done to make it flow better with some bits being moved around, some bits being taken out and many bits corrected. The next chapter might take me a little while as I’m adding pretty much the entire third movie in as I decided to skip most of it for some reason when I originally wrote this story all those years ago. Comments & Suggestions are very much welcome. X


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything, I’m just borrowing them for the purpose of this story.

 **Summary:** Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…

**Warnings: SLASH! THREESOME! UNDERAGE!**

**~ THE SECRET LIFE OF GUY GERMAINE ~**

**~ CHAPTER THREE ~**

Feeling like an absolute idiot Guy pulled his jersey on over the top of the white shirt his mother had forced him to wear and ran his fingers through his hair before following the rest of his teammates towards the crowd of people, some of whom appeared to be reporters.

At least his mum hadn't made him wear a tie like Charlie's had.

They were directed to gather on a little stage around a middle-aged man in an unflattering suit who was stood at a wooden lectern which a total of five microphones attached to it.

“Please welcome to the podium the head coach and leader of the Mighty Ducks,” he announced, gesturing to the edge of the crowd where a familiar figure stood beside a much older man. It was obvious his introduction had been pre-organised. “Gordon Bombay.”

Acknowledging the polite applause offered by the crowd Coach Bombay hurriedly replaced the man behind the lectern, smiling around at Guy and his teammates and gesturing for them to huddle in closer which everyone else did eagerly. Guy, however, hung back.

“Thank you,” Coach murmured into the microphone as he smiled out at the gathered crowd. “It's a great honour to be here today to introduce you to a truly great group of kids.”

Guy ducked his head, inexplicably shy all of a sudden even as his friends lapped up the attention being paid to them, Goldberg actually giving the audience a wave from his position at the very front of the group while Dwayne tipped his stetson towards them.

“Sure, they can be a little rambunctious,” Gordon continued with his rehearsed speech, offering up a genuine chuckle of amusement for the crowd. “They've run me ragged and played more than their fair share of ranks. I still haven't forgotten about those eggs.”

“Hey! That was your fault for having us practice with eggs instead of pucks!” Averman piped up indignantly from his spot to the right of Bombay. “You can't blame that one of us!”

“Yes, thank you, Averman…” Coach Bombay sighed deeply, much to the amusement of their audience. “But I hung in there, and in return they hung in there for me. We became the _Quack Attack_ , the _Flying V_ and the _Bash Brothers_. I've never had a better time. These kids are winners, each and every one of them. But more than that these are good people.”

When he'd found out about the scholarship they were being offered Guy had been every bit as excited as the rest of them but possibly for slightly different reason. All Adam and Charlie could talk about for nearly an hour was the fact that sponsors had been known to visit Eden Hall looking for new talent. The others hadn't been much better. Guy, on the other hand, had been thinking that graduating from such a prestigious school would look much better on his application for the _University of Reykjavik_ than graduating from _Morden High_ would.

“I hope that they enrich and enliven your school and your lives the way they have mine,” Coach Bombay finished with a smile. “Now I hand you over to the capable hands of my old biology teacher and the current headmaster of Eden Hall, Dean Buckley. Dean?”

Dean Buckley turned out to be an older man who towered over almost everyone with a shock of grey hair styled in a comb over and wearing a colourful bow tie with his plain suit.

“Gordon Bombay has a lot to be proud of,” he began cheerfully, leaning against the lectern and seemingly ignoring the way that a few of the Ducks were openly mocking his appearance, Russ bring one of them as he stood making faces up at the man he was now stood beside. “We are happy to welcome the Ducks to our great educational institution.”

 _Institution_? That didn't sound particularly pleasant and, not for the first time since hearing the news, Guy found himself wondering exactly what there were letting themselves in for.

“So, today it gives me great pleasure to award you these full academic scholarships to the Eden Hall Academy,” Dean Buckley announced, holding up a smart black folder with the schools emblem embossed in gold on the front cover up for all to see. “Where we hope that the Ducks will be happy Warriors and lead us on to glory and divisional championships.”

Enduring the ceremony that came with handing out their official scholarships Guy smiled for the cameras and hopped down off of the stage as quickly as possible, making his way over to where his mum was stood at the edge of the crowd with some of the other parents.

She looked tired but proud and demanded that he pose for her to take a picture on their ancient camera, her work uniform creased and wrinkled from the night shift she'd just pulled. One day she wouldn't have to work so hard. One day he'd be able to look after her the way she had always looked after him, keeping him fed and clothed even after his dad had walked out on then when he was seven years old in favour of a much younger woman.

He made a mental note to get a copy of the photo his mum had just taken to send to Gunnar and Olaf with his next letter, knowing the two of them would be thrilled to have it. They'd called, carefully working out the time difference so that it worked for both ends of the conversation, after they'd received his letter about the scholarship to congratulate him.

_“Ve are very pleased for you, love,” Gunnar had murmured sincerely, his familiar voice succeeding in warming Guys heart as he reclined on his bed in his pyjamas. “You, and the rest of your team, deserve the chance to compete at a level appropriate for your skills.”_

_“Já, that and it is one step closer to you coming here vith us,” Olaf had pointed out, proving that they had had exactly the same thoughts as Guy had about how good it would look on his college application. “Ve haf missed being able to see and touch you every day…”_

Bombay’s voice drew him out of the fond memory of the way the phone call had devolved into little more that phone sex which, according to Olaf, had been part of their plan all along to congratulating him on securing the scholarship and he turned to gather around the man who had effectively changed all of their lives. Charlie was oddly absent from the group.

“I'm afraid I've got some bad news,” Coach Bombay began, his soft words sending a flurry of options flooding through not only Guys mind but everyone else's, ranging from a terminal illness to there being a mix up with the scholarships. Guy sincerely hoped that it was something along the lines of the latter rather than the former or else it would be too much for them to handle. “The _Junior Goodwill Games Committee_ has named me their _Director of Player Personnel_ which means I'm going to be in charge of their junior hockey program worldwide. Unfortunately this means that I won't be able to come to Eden Hall with you.”

His words were met with a mixed response. Some, like Guy, we're happy for the opportunity which had been given to Coach Bombay, knowing that it would further his career in a way that coaching never could although sadly there were quite a few who were angry with him.

Portman stormed off without another word, prompting Guy to wonder if this was where Charlie had disappeared off to, and after a couple of thinly veiled comments Fulton, Russ, Dwayne and Connie of all people followed him prompting Bombay’s expression to fall.

“Don't listen to them, Coach,” Adam murmured reassuringly. “You know what they're like.”

“Yeah,” Guy found himself agreeing softly, smiling across at the one responsible for his level of skill on the ice. “We're really pleased for you, Coach. It's a fantastic opportunity and if you can help other kids the way you helped all of us then I for one think it's a fantastic idea.”

His friends echoed his statement, adding their own congratulations and wishing him well even as the older man blinked back at them, obviously struggling to hold back tears.

“Thank you,” he eventually murmured, voice thick with emotion. “All of you, thank you.”

~ * ~ * ~

Nudging the door open with his hip Guy slipped into the convenience store and made his way over to the counter, playing the cardboard box he carried down on the counter.

“Hey, Jesse,” he smiled at his friend who was stood behind the counter. “My mum sent a few things for your mum and dad. Just old stuff, you know, that might come in handy.”

Jesse offered him a tight smile.

It wasn’t fair that one of his closest friends wasn’t able to join them at Eden Hall Academy but he had chosen to help support his parents after his mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and his dad had lost his job due to the amount of time he needed to dedicate to caring for her. As it was ha was already doubtful that he would be able keep up with his passion for hockey whilst catching the amount of shifts he needed to work at the store so adding the extra practises Eden Hall Academy required was out of the question.

Terry was in the same boat, taking the early morning shifts so that his brother could sleep.

“Thanks, Guy,” his friend murmured sadly. “All set for school?”

“Not really,” Guy responded with a shake of his head, browsing the magazines on display. “It’s a big change, you know? And it’s going to be weird without you guys there with us.”

“You hear about Peter?”

“No…”

“Got caught tagging again,” Jesse explained as he moved the box of things so that it was out of view below the counter. His boss hated clutter, especially if it was what she deemed _personal clutter_ , and he couldn’t risk antagonising her into either cutting his shifts or letting him go entirely as she had done to others. “He’s been sent down for another six months.”

“How many times is that now?”

“This is number three,” Jesse answered, ringing through the magazine and the chocolate bar Guy placed on the counter. Guy passed over the money without prompting, unwrapped the chocolate bar and snapped it in half so that they could share. “Thanks, man. If Peter’s not careful he’s going to end up being sent down for real soon and I don’t think he’ll like prison.”

“You heard from Dave at all?”

Jesse shook his head.

They’d all been surprised to learn that whilst they were away competing at the _Junior Goodwill Games_ their friend, whose broken led had made him ineligible to compete, had moved away without leaving any information behind about how to get hold of him. As it was there were rumours circulating about what had happened; his mother had remarried a rich man from New York, he’d run away to join the circus and, the more likely of them all, his mother had been offered a better job and she’d dragged him across the country.

“I did get a letter from Tammy though,” Jesse offered, a lovesick grin blossoming on his face as he thought of his girlfriend. “She’s competing next week for a place at Nationals.”

It still amused Guy to think about how it wasn’t when she’d been competing as a figure skater that she’d been noticed by a talent scout, rather during one of their hockey games when she’d demonstrated one of her signature “distraction” moves. She’d been offered the opportunity to train with one of the top figure skating coaches in the country shortly before they’d left for the _Junior Goodwill Games_ and now she and her family resided in Boston.

Tommy had sulked about it at first but last Guy had heard he was playing for a good team at the top of their own hockey league and still had plans to pursue the sport as a career.

“How’s she doing?” Guy asked, licking the melted chocolate off of his fingertips.

“Her coach thinks she stands a chance of getting through to Nationals,” his friend answered, his smile becoming ever broader. “If she manages that she’s got a shot at the Olympics.”

“Seriously?” Guy choked. Jesse nodded proudly. “That’s awesome! You going to go watch?”

Jesse sighed.

“I’d like to, if she makes it through but the National Figure Skating Championships are being held in Providence, Rhode Island this year so I don’t know how I’d be able to afford it…”

He wanted to offer to lend his friend the money he needed but he knew that there was no way that the proud teenager would accept anything from him or anyone else for that matter. Jesse and his brother had been raised to see accepting _charity_ as an embarrassment, even if that supposed _charity_ was between friends who only want to help.

This had caused trouble in the past and no doubt would cause trouble in the future.

Guy suspected that the only way Tammy would be able to get Jesse to her competition would be if she purchased his ticket, arranged his travel and then used their relationship to blackmail/guilt trip him into accepting. Guy might write and suggest she do just that.

They parted ways after another customer came in demanding service, Guy promising to pop in after their first day at Eden Hall academy to let the other boy know how it went, before he disappeared out of the convenience store and began skating home, magazine in hand.

~ * ~ * ~

He was woken up on the morning of the first day of school by the house phone ringing and, as his mum was working night shifts, he had no choice but to roll out of bed and answer it.

“’lo?”

 _“I miss vaking up beside you,”_ Olaf’s familiar voice all but purred in his ear and the sleepiness washed away in an instant, replaced by the buzz of excitement. _“Is too early?”_

Glancing across at the nearest clock Guy automatically shook his head before realising they couldn’t see him and, biting his lip in order to control his embarrassment, he answered.

“No, I needed to get up in half-an-hour anyway,” he explained truthfully, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair in an attempt to tame his bedhead. “We, the other Duck’s and I who aren’t boarding at the school, have arranged to meet up and skate in together.”

 _“Are you excited?”_ Gunnar enquired softly, his deep voice sending a shiver down Guy’s spine. Olaf’s voice was wonderful, his thick accent still exciting Guy to this day, but there was just something so uncontrollably arousing about Gunnar’s rumbling purr. _“Guy?”_

“I’m…nervous…” he replied honestly. “I’m not exactly the most academic person out there.”

_“You vill be fine.”_

His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as they answered together without hesitation.

“…how can you know that?”

 _“Because you haf a good reason to do vell,”_ Gunnar explained simply and Guy could hear the smile in his voice. _“You vill be fine. You vill be perfect student. Perfect player. And the one day you vill join us in Reykjavik where you vill become great player. Vith us.”_

“You’re right,” Guy sighed, leaning back against the wall. “That is a good reason to do well.”

 _“Onto more important matters,”_ Olaf commanded. _“…vat are you veering?”_

He couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter as he looked down at himself.

“Well, right now I’m just wearing my boxers,” he answered and he could hear both Olaf and Gunnar react to that piece of news. “Control yourself. They’re not even attractive ones.”

They really weren’t.

They were his most comfortable ones, old and worn but perfect for sleeping in.

 _“Doesn’t matter vat they look like,”_ Olaf countered instantly. _“Matters vats inside them.”_

“Pervert…”

 _“For you?”_ his boyfriend chuckled. _“Always.”_

_“Vat Olaf meant to say vas vat are you veering to school?”_

“I thought I’d wear my black jeans, the nice ones not the ones with the holes in them,” Guy answered, looking across at where said clothing was slung over the back of his chair. “And my mum got me a new shirt to wear. It’s blue plaid. I thought I’d wear a white t-shirt underneath and my black jacket on top. What do you think? I didn’t want be too different…”

 _“It sounds perfect,”_ Gunnar reassured him. _“Smart but not like you are trying too hard.”_

 _“Just be careful,”_ Olaf chuckled, the sound sending a shiver running down his spine. _“You know how blue brings out your eyes. You’ll haf to beat them away vith your hockey stick.”_

Rolling his eyes Guy turned the conversation onto a different subject, keeping them on the phone for as long as he could before he had to reluctantly say goodbye so that he could get ready. Gunnar and Olaf were equally as reluctant to say goodbye but promised to call later.

~ * ~ * ~

Once dressed he made sure his street shoes were in his school bag he pulled on his rollerblades, grabbed his safety helmet and set off to meet up with the others in the park by the lake they’d begun playing hockey together on. It was a familiar route, one he could do blindfolded which meant he could allow his mind to wander for the duration of the journey.

What would this new school be like?

He wasn’t the best academic student there’d ever been, to the point where he’d been struggling to keep up his grades at their old school and had been forced to get a tutor.

Would that be an option at Eden Hall or would they expect them to do all the work alone?

What would their new Coach be like?

Due to their past experiences with coaches all the original Ducks were a bit wary or what to expect, each of them remembering the many problems they’d had before finally finding a coach they could work with, a coach they could trust. Firstly they’d had to deal with an alcoholic, then a creepy older guy who had been worryingly obsessed with Connie and had later been found to be a paedophile, then another alcoholic who had also had a gambling problem before their final coach before Bombay had arrived, a middle-aged man with a serious anger management problem who had shouted his way to a premature heart attack.

In the end he was one of the last to arrive and then as a group they set off towards their new school with Averman leading as apparently he was the only one of them who had any idea where they were going. Guy found this to be more than a little bit worrying.

“Averman, where are you taking us?”

It was going well until they lost Goldberg and Charlie.

“Should we double back to try and find them?”

“Nah,” Averman laughed loudly. “They’ll be fine.”

Personally he doubted this fact, mostly due to Goldberg’s questionable track record, but he also didn’t fancy be being late on his first day at a new school. He had just been tightening the straps of his battered old backpack just as they were forced to take an unexpected turn, almost losing his footing which would have been both embarrassing and painful, which took them down into the public garden and through the tunnel underneath the busy main road.

“…bridge!”

“Hey, guys, wasn’t that…?”

Their group was just about to emerge on the other side of the bridge when two instantly recognisable figures dropped down from above them, both of them crying out in fear.

“Yeah!” Averman began the cheering as their two missing friends landed in front of them, somehow managing to land on their feet and stay on their feet. “Goldberg! Yeah!”

“Goldberg, don't you ever do that to me again!”

It sounded as though they had been through one heck of a detour, if Charlie’s exasperated and somewhat hoarse tone of voice was anything to go by. Not to mention that he appeared to be…well…wet…how on Earth had Charlie managed to get covered in water?

Finally, after what felt like a worryingly long time, they arrived at the school gates.

“All right, guys!” Charlie cried out cheerfully, clapping Averman on the back for a job well done as he took over the leading position from the smaller boy. “Let’s get inside!”

“Hey, Averman, I’d wipe my rollerblades if I were you!” Goldberg called out teasingly just as a couple of horses appeared in front of them, the riders looking startled. “It looks like you rolled into something unpleasant on the way over here! Don’t want to stink out the school!”

“Out of the way!” Connie, of all people, called out as the group of teenagers skated directly between the two horses. The poor animals skittered away nervously. “Coming through!”

It seemed as though every single door of the entire school was shut.

They were definitely late.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Charlie ordered as he pulled open the door marked ‘AUDITORIUM’ with more force than was strictly necessary. “Let’s sneak in the back, all right? Let’s go…”

Averman led the way and reluctantly Guy followed, stumbling as they had to manoeuvre up a short flight of narrow stairs whilst still wearing their rollerblades. Something didn’t feel right about this, particularly not when they emerged onto what was undeniably a stage.

“Um, guys?” Guy mumbled, looking at the red curtain to their left. “I don’t think…”

Of course that was when Goldberg arrived, tripping on something and grabbing onto said curtain in order to stop himself from crashing to the ground. Unfortunately, with a loud ripping sound, the curtain dropped down on top of them and Guy found himself knocked off his feet by another body as the heavy fabric of the curtain began to starve him of oxygen.

This was immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of people laughing.

“Hey!” Goldberg snapped just as Charlie managed to throw most of the curtain off of them although Guy was still left struggling with the section which had fallen on him. Somehow it had managed to become wrapped rather tightly around his legs, probably from the way Fulton had struggled when he’d fallen on top of him and knocked him over. “Get off of me!”

Of course this only caused the laughter to increase.

“Hi…” Charlie greeted the shocked faculty members and near hysterical students as the group of friends on the stage gazed out at them in horror. “We’re the Ducks.”

Guy could have smacked him.

This was _not_ the first impression he’d been hope to make…

~ * ~ * ~

After what could only be described as an absolutely disastrous first day, his public school education leaving him almost completely unprepared in most of his lessons, Guy had been looking forwards to their first practise. Something familiar. Something he could handle.

“Wow…” Adam gasped as they exited the JV locker room as a group. There were a mixture of hockey jerseys, Charlie continuing to wear his original green ‘Ducks’ jersey as he had all day, Adam and Russ wearing their Goodwill Games jerseys whilst the rest wore random teams they’d either played for or supported. Guy himself was wearing a blue jersey his cousins had got him for Christmas as a joke. It was a Canadian strip. “This place is great…”

“This is a nice rink…”

“Hot dog…”

Dwayne’s nasal voice almost completely drown out Charlie’s soft admission as all of them came to a halt behind the protective barrier between the ice and the stands. It _was_ a very nice rink, almost as big as the semi-professional rinks they’d competed on before now.

“It's huge!”

“You know, I bet they even have a snack bar here,” Goldberg announced, his tone making it clear that he truly believed that to be the signature of a good rink rather than the vaulted ceiling from which their championship banners hung, the tiered seating and the smooth ice.

“Big deal.”

“They look pretty good…”

Guy had to admit that Luis was right.

The Varsity Team clearly had a great deal of skill and skated with the precision and perfect time that came from years of playing together. They wore their black and red practise uniforms which only added to the level of intimidation they seemed determined to produce.

“They sure have won a lot of championships.”

He let out a grunt of agreement when he heard Julie’s statement, glancing up at the countless championship banners for a second time. There seemed to be hundreds of them.

“They're huge!”

Charlie scoffed, looking away from the players gathering together on the ice as he countered Dwayne’s panicked cry with a somewhat petulant mutter of his own,

“They're not so hot…”

“Come on, guys,” Connie called out brightly. “We could skate out there.”

As one the team picked up their hockey sticks and made their way along to the nearest entrance onto the ice which, unfortunately, just happened to be the one the Varsity were exiting from. It was predictable that the two teams would collide, literally in Charlie’s case.

“If it isn't Captain Ducky.”

Riley, the Captain of the Varsity team if the ‘C’ on his jersey was anything to go by, sneered down at them as he reached out to place his gloved hand in the centre of Charlie’s chest.

Predictably it was Fulton that moved forwards to push him away from their friend.

“Get your hands off him.”

“Ooh, look, a Bash Brother,” Cole, an enforcer who appeared to be a literal representation of the phrase ‘ _all bran and no brain’_ added his own voice to the scene. “I'm so scared.”

Guy suddenly found himself facing a young man who could have been Gunner’s twin.

If he hadn’t already been completely gone of his lovers he would probably have found himself being attracted to the Varsity’s goalie. As it was he found the similarities a little bit unnerving as was relieved that their coach arrived to herd them away from the Ducks.

There was no sign of their own new coach.

“How about it, Cowboy?” Charlie enquired as they stepped out onto the ice. “Round up?”

Typical Charlie, taking charge of the situation without consulting with everyone else. Normally they all just went along with it but this time Connie decided to challenge him,

“Hey, Charlie, shouldn't we wait for the new coach before we mess around?”

“This is how we practice,” Charlie responded, the patronising tone of voice grating on Guy’s nerves although Connie just seemed to shrug it off. Whether or not Charlie had meant for it to come across as a joke was unclear but everyone else seemed to take it as something too laugh and smile about. “Duck hockey, Connie. You'll have to get used to it sooner or later.”

Connie rolled her eyes in his direction.

“Well, come on, Cowboy,” Charlie coaxed Dwayne, nudging him with his elbow. “Hit it!”

“Yee-ha! Round ‘em up, doggies!”

Reluctantly he joined in with the rest of his friends, ducking away from the rope whenever it came his way. He even found himself having fun, a broad grin appearing on his face as the familiar game continued in the absence of their new coach. It was going well until they were all so caught up in their fun, in watching Charlie fall flat on his face as he was finally caught by Dwayne, that they missed the moment their new arrived and joined them on the ice.

“My name is Coach Orion. You can call me Coach or Coach Orion.”

He was younger than any of them had been expecting, given the age of the Varsity coach, and was surprisingly handsome. It was obvious he took care himself, both in terms of his health and his looks. It was also obvious he was going to be even less fun than Coach Bombay had been in the early days of his time as Coach of the Mighty Ducks, then District 5.

“Well,” Charlie sighed with a grin, holding his hand gloved out. “You can call me Charlie.”

“That must be what that ‘C’ on your jersey stands for, huh?” Coach Orion scoffed, looking down at the offered hand with obvious distaste. “It sure doesn't stand for captain.”

If it had been Guy in Charlie’s place, being snubbed so blatantly by a person in a position of responsibility, he imagined he’d have kicked off. As it was Charlie just stared up at the older man, the colour draining from his cheeks as he realised he had just lost his prized position.

“Sorry, Coach. We were just messing with you, you know?”

Russ at least tried to sound apologetic, smiling broadly across at the man who was in charge of their high school hockey experience. Goldberg didn’t even try to hide his annoyance,

“Hey, Bombay gave him that ‘C’.”

“And I respect that but that's the past,” Orion brushed off the protests, looking around at the players gathered on the ice. “This is my team now and I'll be selecting the captain.”

Charlie scoffed loudly.

“You've got to be kidding me, right?”

Shaking his head Guy looked from their team Captain, a renowned hot head with a bad habit of thinking of himself before others, and their new coach who didn’t look very impressed with him at all. In fact Orion looked at Charlie like he was a bug on his shoe.

“I mean, you're the rookie here,” Charlie pressed on, actually sneering at the older man as he gestured behind him towards the rest of the team. Guy wasn’t the only one who shifted uncomfortably under the attention. “Most of us have been playing together for four years.”

“Yeah…”

Goldberg wasn’t the only one to respond positively but he was definitely the loudest.

“Ok, Charlie, laps,” Coach Orion reacted calmly. His gaze was ice cold. “Right now.”

“How many, _Coach_ Orion?”

 _That’s it, Charlie,_ Guy thought to himself, _piss him off before we’ve even begun training._

“I don't recall saying,” Coach Orion responded coldly, glaring at the headstrong teen until he pushed off and began skating the laps he’d been ordered to. “Now you listen up and you listen up good. We are here for one reason and one reason only. You know what that is?”

Guy actually found himself dreading the answer they were about to receive.

This was _not_ the style of coaching they had become used to.

“It starts with a ‘w’.”

Averman was the one to finally offer a response worthy of the Hawks or the Vikings.

“To win, Coach Orion, sir!”

“No,” Orion shot him down as swiftly and as bluntly as possible. “To work.”

 _Ok,_ Guy thought to himself, _that’s not as bad as it could have been._

“High school hockey is very hard work,” Orion continued. “And it all begins with defence. I've seen your tapes. I know you can score goals. I just don't know if you can stop them.”

“Hey!” Goldberg protested loudly, pushing himself to front of the group before catching himself, freezing under the intense glare being laid upon him by Orion. “Um…sorry, sir…”

“You're not kids or little ducks anymore so I'm not going to treat you that way,” the Coach announced firmly, turning the glare on the rest of the Ducks. “You're going to learn to play two-way hockey: offence and defence. It's going to take one thing. It's starts with a ‘w’.”

“To work, Coach Orion, sir!”

Averman sounded so confident as he recited what their coach had literally just told them.

“Wrong,” the Coach cut him down effortlessly, bringing forth a round of snorts and chuckles at Averman’s expense. The comedic member of their group took it well. “Will. It's going to take real will if you want to play in my barn. All right. Count off. Let's climb the ladder.”

From that moment their first practise went from bad to worse.

Nothing they did was good enough for their new coach who seemed to delight in bringing them all down time and again. Every little thing was criticised; the way they skated as individuals, the way they skated as a team, the way they handled their sticks and the puck.

It was one of the most frustrating practises Guy had ever been put through.

~ * ~ * ~

Goldberg was the first through the door of the locker room once they had been dismissed from the ice and wasted no time in throwing down his stick and gloves before lying down on one of the long benches and announcing as melodramatically as humanly possible,

“Somebody get a shovel and bury me right here.”

“I will teach you to play like what?” Charlie called out dramatically. “Starts with a ‘w’!”

“Wussies,” Fulton piped up as he followed the other boy into the room.

“That's right,” Charlie agreed sarcastically, dropping his own gloves down onto the bench underneath where his street clothes were still hanging. “Wussies on offence and defence!”

Russ grunted like an animal and begun thumping his hands against his padded chest,

“ _Defence! Defence! Defence!_ ”

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Guy’s mind that their new coach had overheard every single word his friends had said about him given that he pretty much followed them into the locker room, shouldering his way past Ken who had been the last to enter the locker room.

“Eden Hall requires you to maintain a ‘C’ average to compete,” he announced, calmly making his way through the team as they moved out of his way. “I believe that's a bad rule.”

Goldberg crowed triumphantly,

“Go Coach!”

It was almost too predictable when the Coach turned his steely gaze on them.

“I don't want any ‘C’ players on my team,” he informed them strictly whilst pinning a single sheet of paper to the notice board. “I want ‘B’s or better or you're going to be riding the pine pony. Now you've got fifteen minutes after each practice to clear this locker room.”

Fifteen minutes?

That wasn’t nearly enough time for them all to take a turn in the showers given that they were a mixed team and the showers were always communal allowing for no privacy, let alone to get themselves presentable to face the world outside the locker room once more.

“You've got homework to do,” Orion reminded them almost cheerfully before becoming stern once more, actually pointing a finger around at all of them. “Oh, and one more thing. Stay clear of the varsity until we play them in the JV-Varsity Showdown. You got that?”

And with that parting threat their new coach left them alone to sort themselves out.

“Fifteen minutes?” Russ groaned pathetically. “Man, I cannot move!”

“Hey, you guys, look!” Connie gasped, jumping to her feet. “He posted out positions.”

A crowd quickly gathered around the piece of paper he had posted, shoulders bumping as they jostled each other out of the way so that they could each discover their new positions.

“I don't believe this,” Fulton was the first to complain. “I play left side, not right.”

“Third line!” Russ added his own complaint. “Man, that's a major diss!”

Adam’s voice, when it came, was soft and filled with confusion,

“I'm not even posted.”

“Yeah, you are,” Connie countered quickly as she spotted his name, her voice trailing off with obvious confusion as she read it aloud. “Adam Banks, third line centre. Varsity?”

“…I made Varsity?”

Varsity?

They were losing Adam to what was effectively their rival team?!

“That's the great thing about being goalie, you know?” Goldberg laughed cheerfully from where he was taking his time removing the cumbersome pads he had to wear. “You always know where you stand. I just mind my business, take my place between the pipes.”

Averman snorted loudly from where he stood in front of the sheet of paper.

“You're riding the pine pony, pal.”

“…very funny.”

“Julie's one,” Averman explained simply. “You're two.”

“I'm _backup_?”

To say Goldberg took the news badly would be an understatement, stumbling over to hang off of Averman’s shoulder as he stared at the words neatly typed up on the sheet of paper.

“How can he do this to me?” he demanded sharply. “What am I, chopped liver?”

Guy found himself standing between Ken and Dwayne as he searched the piece of paper for his name, relieved to find that unlike most of his friends his position hadn’t changed.

“Hey,” Dwayne grunted, voice filled with confusion. “Who's Captain _Tibid_?”

Shifting his gaze to the top of the page Guy saw at once what had confused the other boy.

“Oh, no, that's Captain _T.B.D_ ,” he explained clearly, shooting a worried glance across at Charlie who’s expression turn glacial as Guy broke it down further. “ _To Be Determined_.”

“Oh,” Dwayne mumbled, his brows furrowing with confusion. “Oh, I see. Well…no I don't.”

He turned, drawing all of their gazes to where Charlie sat fuming silently.

“That's your job, Charlie.”

~ * ~ * ~

Knowing that if he called his boyfriends as soon as he arrived home he would never get through the mountain of homework he had been assigned on the first day, most of which was to be completed by the second or third day and was supposedly designed to test their knowledge and academic abilities he forced himself to work through the homework first.

As such it was late when he called them which meant it was ridiculously late for them.

It was no surprise that it ended up going to the answering machine.

“It’s me,” he began softly, lying back against his pillows with the phone held up to his ear. “I’m sorry I left it so late to call but I had hockey practise and then homework to complete. I just wanted to let you know that school was…interesting…and that I miss you both.”

He sighed deeply, feeling unexpectedly emotional when faced with leaving a message rather than speaking to his two boyfriends in person. For some reason a message felt even worse.

“I love you both. Um…” he bit his lip, inexplicably struggling to hold back tears. “Love you.”

Hanging up the phone he frowned at his hand as he placed the chunky phone down on his bedside cabinet, noticing the way it shook uncontrollably. His mum was out, working, and he couldn’t help but wish she was there so that he could go to her for a comforting hug.

He hadn’t told her about his relationship.

She wouldn’t understand, not just that he was gay but that he had two boyfriends.

But she was his mother and one of her hugs would have helped a great deal.

“Never mind,” he sighed to himself as he began his nightly routine. “Bed time…”

~ * ~ * ~

Of their entire team only five of them had managed to get all of the required homework assignments completed, the others being Adam, Connie, Julie and Ken who no doubt completed them to a much higher standard than he had. Most of the others had only managed to complete some of the homework but a few hadn’t even bothered trying.

They were all treated to “dinner and a show” come lunchtime curtesy of Charlie, Fulton and Russ who had decided to declare a prank war on the Varsity team without consulting the rest of them. It turned out that they’d seen them harassing Ken who had willingly traded his own cafeteria lunch for Goldberg’s homemade lunch, preferring fresh food, and so their retaliation was justified. A little warning would have been nice, however, as Guy had only been half-done with his meal when he was caught up in the stampede caused by the prank.

He hadn’t held much hope that their second hockey practise would be an improvement on the first and, sadly, he wasn’t disappointed. Julie spent most of the practise throwing up due to a cruel prank which Goldberg had played on her for which he was thoroughly thumped later on by all of them but especially Julie, the talented girl positively vibrating with anger.

It was bearable, the repetitive drills which seemed to have been designed to break them down rather than to build them up, until predictably Charlie brought everything to a halt.

“Where's the _one_ place you never want to clear the puck?”

Guy winced from where he had come to a halt following the coach’s sharp whistle.

“It looked open.”

“Just answer the question, Conway.”

The hot-head of the team huffed loudly before snapping at their coach,

“Listen, I'm not a defence-man, I'm a scorer!”

Coach Orion’s expression turned from cold to positively glacial in the blink of an eye.

“Follow me.”

None of them could quite believe it when he put Charlie in the penalty box.

“Anybody share his opinion?” Orion demanded gruffly as he returned to his previous position, glaring around at the rest of them. No one spoke. “All right then, take a knee.”

Guy was more than happy to obey and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was grateful for the unexpected break. He could do with a drink as well but didn’t want to risk drawing Coach Orion’s attention to him by dashing over to the bench where his bottle was.

Reaching down Orion scooped up the puck into his hand, frowning down at it as he asked,

“What's the one thing all great teams have in common?”

“Great coaching.”

“Don't try to suck up to me, Averman,” Orion shot down his outspoken friend. Goldberg snorted loudly as Averman’s smile fell. “Defence. See, unlike scoring defence never quits.”

Not that he’d admit it to his friends but that actually made a lot of sense to Guy.

“But to play great defence you need one thing above all else.”

“Bet it starts with a ‘w’…” Averman muttered, just loud enough to be heard by their Coach who shot him a dirty look as he supplied the answer to his own sort-of-a-question,

“Confidence.”

Guy shared a look with Julie, the person knelt closest to him. She looked just as confused.

“Listen, if you learn nothing else when you're here, you learn this. Alright?” Coach Orion demanded, gesturing around at all of them with the puck before folding it into the palm of his hand so that he could point towards specific players. “Because it's not just about hockey. It's easy to be confident when you have control of the puck. It's very, very difficult to keep that confidence when you've got to take whatever strange bounces life throws your way.”

Huh…

Coach Orion had a point.

It _was_ difficult to be confident about anything when things weren’t going the way they should have been. His mother said he had retreated into himself after his father had walked out on them, not that he remembered much other than being really sad, but apparently it had only been joining the team as a favour to Charlie that had brought him out of his shell.

“Don't be careless, but don't be afraid either,” Orion continued firmly, pointing towards Averman and Goldberg, then Ken, Dwayne and Connie. “You _cannot_ be afraid to lose.”

…and just how were they meant to do that?

Guy had spent every game he’d even played in terrified that they would lose, even when they were _‘District Five’_ and all they ever _did_ was lose again and again. It was still terrifying.

“ _That's_ how you gain the confidence to attack the game when the puck isn't yours,” Coach Orion concluded his speech, using the puck to gesture to them again. “That's how you attack life, even when you think you don't have _any_ control. And _that's_ how you play real defence.”

~ * ~ * ~

Stepping off of the ice after their first game Guy couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh, feeling more disappointed with their performance as a team than he had in a long time. Since their first match against his lover’s team, even. They’d performed well during the first two periods but sadly their early success had gone to their heads leaving them overconfident going into the final period. It had been embarrassing, watching his friends making idiots of themselves as they tried to show off long after Guy had realised that he needed to buckle down and play hard if they were to have any chance of leaving the ice with a victory.

“Oh, there goes the buzzer. This baby is over. A very disappointing tie for the Eden Hall Warriors,” the annoying voice of the announcer echoed throughout the rink thanks to the schools impressive sound system, one which included the games being broadcast on the local radio station. “They opened their cabin door and let those Blake Bears climb right in.”

Charlie stormed off, pushing his way into the locker room as he grumbled defensively,

“The guy hooked me, all right?”

“We didn't _need_ anymore goals…”

Not wanting to get involved in what was blatantly going to dissolve into a fight, whether it be verbal or physical, Guy hung back near the door whilst his friends clashed in front of him.

“Hey, listen, I was trying to win it!”

“Well, mission unaccomplished, Charlie.”

Nope.

This was not going to end well…

“We let down, simple as that…”

“Hey, you let down,” Connie muttered, shoving past the group of boys standing chest to chest as she headed towards her locker to dump her stick and skates. “I played hard."

“Well, what are we playing for anyway?” Charlie scoffed angrily, throwing his arms wide as he glared around at his friends and teammates. “Some stupid school? The _alumni_?”

He snorted, shaking his head and Guy sighed, dropping his own head to look at the floor.

“I mean, _Warriors_?” Charlie continued derisively. “What the hell are we now?”

“Look, man, we're on _scholarship_ ,” Russ pointed out, getting in Charlie’s face. “I'm staying.”

Charlie scoffed,

“Fine, sell-out…”

“Man, who you calling a sell-out?” Russ demanded. “Punk!”

He couldn’t tell who shoved who first but it took mere seconds for his friends to dissolve into a fight, pushing and shoving at each other although no punches were thrown. Most of the others, like him, tried to pull the two of them away from each other, but some joined in.

“Hey, get your hands off him!”

“Hold up, Charlie!”

“Charlie, stop it!”

Even with the padding he was wearing the impact of the door on his arm as it was flung open sent a wave of pain flooding through his left side, his fingers tingling as though they were going to go numb. Turning to give whoever was responsible a piece of his mind he was stunned to see their coach storming into the room with a face like thunder, launching a hockey puck towards the fighting teenagers who only just moved out of the way in time.

As it was the puck flew through the air and imbedded itself deep into the noticeboard.

“How long does it take to score a goal?” he demanded angrily, glaring around at the young faces of his players, most of whom were now staring at him in open mouthed shock. As angry as Bombay had gotten with them in the early days he’d never, ever thrown anything at any of them. “Less than a second! That means no lead is safe if you can't play defence!”

Guy understood where their Coach was coming from even if his friends didn’t.

“Now get this straight,” Coach Orion pressed on, continuing to glare around at the talented young players staring up at him. Guy was the only one behind him. “I don't give a damn how many goals you score. I want one number on your mind: zero, as in shutout. You got that?”

Multiple heads moved as the group of friends reluctantly nodded.

“Practice, tomorrow morning. Got to get up early if you want to hunt goose eggs.”

Dodging out of the way as their coach left the room just as swiftly as he had entered the changing room, allowing the door to slam behind him loudly. For a long moment no one moved, no one spoke, and then someone let out a sigh and they all moved to get changed.

“Hey,” Guy found himself calling out, his voice filled with annoyance as he discovered that his things were missing. Everything, even his underwear and socks. “Who took my clothes?”

As a second silence fell they all heard the sound of the showers running.

“No…” Connie gasped, leading them as they all rushed towards the communal shower, stumbling to a halt as they caught sight of the large pile of fabric in the centre of the room. All the shower heads had been adjusted so that the spray was aimed directly at them. “I…”

“Did they put our clothes in the…?”

He could see his jacket resting on the very top of the pile but the rest seemed to have been muddled in with all of the other clothes. Only one of his trainers was visible and he was more annoyed about them than his clothes as they were his most comfortable pair of shoes and once they dried out they’d warp. Shoes always did. They’d never be the same again.

“Oh, man…”

“That answers your question, doesn't it?”

~ * ~ * ~

“They put our clothes in the shower,” Guy sighed into the phone, sitting out on the fire escape of his apartment building where he had just eaten the Chinese take-out he had ordered for dinner as his mother was away on business. “So then some of the guys thought it’d be a good idea to get them back by using liquid nitrogen to freeze _their_ clothes…”

Olaf burst out laughing on the other end of the line whilst Gunnar gasped loudly,

_“…liquid nitrogen?”_

It had been over a week since they’d last managed to catch each other, all of them trying at one point or another but choosing the wrong time. Guy hadn’t wanted to leave a long winded message each time and so had just promised to call at a certain time every day so that maybe one day they’d be able to take his call. Thankfully it had worked although he feared the size of their phone bill, international phone calls and all that, so had started looking for a job which he could fit around school and hockey practise in order to pay it off.

He didn’t want his mum to be landed with the bill, given that she’d want to know who he was calling and he wasn’t ready to come out yet, especially not as he had two boyfriends.

“Yup,” he confirmed with a smile, tapping the chop sticks against the railings. “Apparently they did the whole locker room and it must have been bad because they got us back by taking us out for dinner at a ridiculously posh restaurant and leaving us with the bill.”

 _“Vat?”_ Gunnar gasped in shock. _“That seems like an unnecessary amount of escalation.”_

“We couldn’t afford it, obviously, so we had to spend the rest of the evening working it off,” Guy sighed, recalling the various jobs the restaurant had made them all do. They hadn’t been allowed to leave the restaurant until gone midnight. “As you can probably guess this didn’t go down very well the rest of the team. I didn’t really want to get involved but…”

_“Vat did you do in retaliation?”_

Olaf was definitely enjoying hearing about their prank war.

“Ok, well first you have to know that Dean Buckley keeps an ant farm in his office,” he began the explanation of the events that had taken place earlier that very evening. “Not just any ants, though, fire ants. Anyway the Varsity Team all board on campus. It’s a thing, apparently, so someone came up with the idea to put the fire ants into their beds…”

 _“Guð Minn Góður!”_ Gunnar choked out whilst Olaf cackled once more. _(Oh My God!)_

“We used a hoover to get them out of the ant farm and then used a network of plastic tubes we liberated from the science department to spread them throughout the rooms,” he continued with his explanation. “I spent my evening perched in a tree with a pair of binoculars and a walkie-talkie guiding them through using a fishing rod through an air vent to lift the ends of the tubes onto the beds so that the ants would reach their targets.”

 _“Vait, did…did you pull this prank_ tonight _?”_ Gunnar gasped. _“Guy!”_

“And we’d tied all their doors in such a way that they couldn’t get out until we let them out,” he finished his explanation, speaking not from experience but from what the others had said when they’d met up following their hard work. “Unfortunately because they had to be there to let them out of their rooms that meant they were there to be challenged…”

_“Challenged?”_

Guy cleared his throat, using the chopsticks to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly, somewhat hesitantly as he knew that his boyfriends would disapprove of the outcome of the prank war. To be honest he wasn’t too thrilled by it but he couldn’t desert his friends now. “They challenged us to a pick-up game tomorrow at dawn.”

_“Vat?!”_

~ * ~ * ~

 **A/N** Here is the long awaited (sorry about that…) update in the re-write of my old story. Hope you enjoyed it and I’ll try to get the next one out ASAP. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything, I’m just borrowing them for the purpose of this story.

 **Summary:** Guy Germaine went to the Junior Goodwill Games to represent his country. He wasn’t looking to come home with anything other than a medal. He certainly wasn’t expecting to come home with a boyfriend…or two…

**Warnings: SLASH! THREESOME! UNDERAGE!**

**~ THE SECRET LIFE OF GUY GERMAINE ~**

**~ CHAPTER FOUR ~**

“It's not too late to call this off, guys,” Guy murmured as he pulled his jersey on over his pads, his Junior Goodwill Games jersey, not the one they had to wear for Eden Hall. Admittedly it did feel good to be a Duck again but there was still an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the unauthorised game that they were about to participate in. “There's still time for us to stop this before it goes too far…”

“Whose side are you on, Guy?” Charlie snapped. “Are you a Duck? Or a Warrior?”

“I'm a Duck, Charlie,” Guy responded, his voice tinged with hurt. “Of course I'm a Duck. I just don't want to do anything to risk our scholarships. Everything we've done until now falls under teenage pranks. Everyone does them. But this? This is breaking so many rules that…”

“Guy, it's fine,” Charlie interrupted him, voice only marginally softer than before. “No one’s going to find out. We just need to give those jackasses the thrashing they deserve, alright?”

Guy sighed.

He was definitely in the minority when it came to opinions about the oncoming game.

“Fine.”

Going through the motions of getting himself ready as slowly as possible he waited until he was the last player in the locker room, turned away from the rink and hurried into Coach Orion’s empty office. He couldn't let them all risk everything they had worked towards.

If he'd known the Coaches telephone number he'd have called him, brought him to the rink to put an end to this madness before it got too far, but as it was all he could do was leave him a note and hope that the older man would arrive sooner rather than later. He hated the fact that he was betraying his friends, Charlie in particular, but he knew full well that it wasn't just him who was completely reliant on their scholarships. If they lost them because of something like this, some stupid rivalry, then there was no hope of going to University.

And that, he thought to himself as he picked up the coaches pen, would end their hockey careers before they’d even begun. If only Charlie, the renowned hot-head, could see that.

_Coach,_

_I'm sorry. We've been challenged to a game by the Varsity team and ~~Charlie~~ we've accepted. ~~I tried to~~ We tried to say no but they didn't give us a choice. I hope you get this on time. _

_Guy Germaine_

He felt horrible for betraying his team like that but he was just looking out for their futures.

He hoped, if Coach Orion even got the note and decided to make it public knowledge who had written it, that they'd forgive him. He hoped they understand what he was trying to do.

Shaking his head he picked up his gloves, helmet and stick and, with one last glance at the note resting atop the coach’s clipboard, headed out to join his friends on the ice.

Settling into his warm-up routine he eventually found himself selected by Charlie, who appeared to have appointed himself as their coach, to be part of the opening play. He wasn't centre, that wasn't where his strengths lay and they all knew it, as Charlie had taken that position for himself although he took the time to confront Adam on his way there.

“They didn't tell me until it was too late,” Adam called out, almost desperately, as he grabbed hold of Charlie's elbow. Guy felt truly sorry for him. “Charlie, believe me…”

Charlie scoffed, yanking his arm away,

“Yeah, right, preppy.”

Their hot-headed captain had turned away before the hopeless look appeared on Adams face, his eyes noticeably welling up, but Guy saw it. He'd long suspected that Adam was about as heterosexual as he was and that their former star-scorer had a thing for Charlie.

Guy felt for him, he truly did; he didn't know how he'd have reacted had he been in Adam’s shoes. Removed from his team, his friends, because of his father’s money which he'd never wanted to be known for in the first place. Placed on a team of pretentious bullies. And to top it all off in love with someone who was either too straight to notice or just didn't care.

He met the other boys gaze, holding it for a moment before offering him a deliberate nod. Adam smiled tearfully in response, nodding back, before moving to take up his position.

“First to ten,” Riley announced, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Full check.”

Charlie glared at him, adjusting his grip on his stick as he all but growled his response,

“Bring it on.”

It was obvious from the very first moments of the game that things were going to go very badly for the Ducks; yes, they'd been playing together for years but without a coach to see the bigger picture they were constantly playing catch up with an older, stronger team who had also been playing together for years and who, for the most part, weren't afraid to cheat.

Guy was glad when, after a particularly questionable check, he was pulled from the ice.

“Guy?” Connie called out worriedly when he took his helmet and gloves off so that he could press his hands against his temples. His head was _pounding_. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I'm fine,” he grunted softly, mildly concerned to realise that he was somewhat nauseous. Seriously, how hard had he hit the boards? It had been Cole, of course, but hat had checked him and he vaguely remembered the monstrous players knee colliding with his head on purpose as he'd slid down the boards following the initial check. Perhaps that had something to do with it... “I just hit the…the boards a little too hard and then…whoa…”

All of a sudden the world around him began to tilt and it took him a moment to realise that, no, the world wasn't spinning; he was slipping uncontrollably to the right towards the floor.

“Guy!”

Multiple pairs of hands took hold of him, guiding him down until he was lying along the bench which his friends had vacated for this express purpose. Had this been a normal game their coach would have already been calling a time out so that one of the medics could check him over but this wasn't a normal game; there was no coach and no medics.

He'd just have to tough it out and hope that it wasn't anything more than a hard hit.

“You’re out,” Julie announced, folding up a towel for him to use as a pillow. “You’re done.”

“M’kay…” Guy sighed, grimacing as his eyes began reacting to the early morning light streaming in through the windows surrounding the ice rink. “Didn't want to play anyway…”

A damp towel was produced from somewhere and laid across his forehead.

“Oh…” he sighed gratefully when it helped ease some of the throbbing. “Thanks…”

It all went to hell in a hand basket not long after that.

Something, he wasn't sure what exactly due to his limited field of vision, happened on the ice between Charlie and Adam. Something which caused Charlie to attack his former friend.

“Get off me, Charlie!” Adam shouted, genuine panic in his voice. “Get off!”

Charlie responded by scoffing coldly, no doubt continuing whatever it was that he was doing to other teenage boy,

“How do you like it, Banks?”

Guy frowned.

What was wrong with Charlie?

That was _Adam_ , their friend and teammate who had helped them defeat the Vikings at the climax of the Junior Goodwill Games despite a horrific wrist injury, not some mindless goon.

“Yeah, nice takedown,” Adam responded, sounding as though he were struggling to regain both his breathing and his footing. Julie shifted nervously, biting her lip as she gazed out towards the ice, and Guy felt his stomach grow heavy with dread. “You'd be in the box.”

Charlie laughed coldly.

This was _not_ good.

“Go cry to your rich parents!”

And, just like always, the mention of his supposedly privileged upbringing was all that was needed to destroy what little control Adam had had left over his equally hot temper.

A wordless shout of rage followed by the recognisable sounds of someone's stick, helmet and gloves hitting the ice pre-empted the heated declaration which Adam all but screamed,

“All right, fine! Let's go!”

And that, as they say, was that.

The mockery of a hockey game descended into a brawl, both of the teams flooding onto the ice and attacking each other as best they could with their pads and helmets still on for the most part. Guy was left alone, struggling to pull himself up into a seated position just as a sharp and all too familiar whistle pierced through the screams and shouts filling the air.

“Freeze!” Orion snapped as he stormed onto the ice, whistle hanging from around his neck and he physically separated a couple of players. “Hey! Hey! Break it up! Break it up now!”

Most of the players on the ice obeyed him but some, such as Charlie, Adam, Fulton, Riley and Cole, continued to attack each other as ferociously as they could which prompted their strict coach to physically insert himself between them, pushing them away from each other.

“It's a _damn_ good thing I'm not your coach,” he growled at Riley, getting right into the teenagers face as the Varsity captain struggled to get his breath back. He looked a little worse for wear, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone although a glance at Charlie proved he had come off worse with a split lip and what appeared to be one heck of a black eye already darkening his pale skin. “Now, get your team out of here now! Varsity team, out!”

“Let's go,” Riley muttered, scooping his helmet off of the ice before skating towards the exit where the Varsity’s coach had just appeared. He, too, looked rather pissed off. “Come on.”

“Get out of here!” Orion snapped at the stragglers. “Let's go! You, out!”

“This ain't over…” Cole growled as he shoved his way past Fulton, following his teammates off the ice but not before calling out confidently, “We're gonna _destroy_ you guys!”

Scooter, their talented goalie, grabbed his friends arm.

“Come on,” he hissed sharply, dragging the bulkier teen away. “Let it go.”

Silence fell as Orion turned to glare at the Ducks scattered around the ice, all of them looking a little worse for wear after the fight. He didn't seem to notice Guy for the moment.

“Well, congratulations,” he finally announced, flinging his arms out as he glared around at his players. “You just forfeited whatever mental edge you might have had over the varsity.”

Guy barely held back a groan as his vision spun once more, blurring around the edges.

“Now they know they own you,” Orion continued, his frustration evident. Whether that frustration was caused by them giving away their _edge_ or simply by them disobeying him Guy couldn't tell. He could understand either way. “This isn't the Peewees. Your little Duck tricks are not gonna work at this level. Now, for the last time, _stay away from the varsity_. And get those Duck jerseys off now. Let's go. Now. Come on, let's go. Take them off!”

Silence.

No one moved for a long moment.

But then, as they sensed that their coach wasn't joking, most of them began stripping off their jerseys, dropping the treasured items of clothing into a pile at his feet. Only Charlie and Fulton refused on the ice whilst Guy, on the bench, didn’t dare move around that much.

“The Ducks are dead,” Orion concluded coldly, fixing his glare on Charlie who brazenly folded his arms, blatantly challenging the older man's order. Around him the other shifted nervously. “You got two choices, Conway. Take off the jersey right now or you don't play.”

Charlie's glare intensified,

“You're breaking up the best thing any of us ever had.”

“Well, it's time to grow up.”

“ _Grow up_?” Charlie echoed their coach’s words, his voice dripping with venom. “Like you, huh? A washed-up pro who has to show off to a bunch of kids. Geez, that's real grown up.”

“Okay, good-bye, Conway,” Coach Orion announced calmly, making his dismissal of the teenager perfectly clear when he turned to address the rest of the team. “Anybody else?”

Fulton, who had by then stripped off his jersey but had held onto it, shook his head and followed Charlie off of the ice. That didn't come as much of a surprise; Charlie was the only reason he was on the tea, at all, the only reason he had dared to step out onto the ice.

And Fulton was nothing if not loyal.

“All right. Good-bye, Fulton,” Orion announced calmly, turning to face the other players. “No one's forcing any of you to be here. It's your lives. You decide what to make of them.”

He paused, looking around at them to make sure his message had reached them.

“All right,” he finally muttered. “Twenty laps, then hit the showers.”

“Um, Coach?” Julie called out softly as everyone else moved to obey his orders. Orion turned to face their female goalie. “Could you have a look at Guy? He took a nasty hit…”

She gestured towards where he was sat on the bench, prompting Orion’s head to snap around to stare towards the injured teenager. Guy could feel himself listing to the side more and more with each passing second even as he tried to brace himself on the bench.

“Shit…” Orion hissed, hurrying across the ice as fast as he could in his street shoes. He vaulted the barrier with ease, dropping down into a crouch in front of Guy. “Germaine?”

“M’sorry, Coach…” Guy mumbled, wincing as his own voice felt like razor blade being shoved into his brain. The other voices weren't much better. “I tried to stop them playing…”

“I know,” Orion murmured. “I got your note when I arrived.”

“Note?” Julie enquired from where she was stood holding onto the barrier. “What note?”

“Never mind that now,” Orion brushed her off tersely, his hands coming up to cradle Guys face as he took a good, long look at his players pupils. “Germaine, did you hit your head?”

Instincts kicking in he went to nod and that was it, his stomach lurched and his breakfast made a sudden and unwelcome reappearance on the floor between the two of them.

“Ok, Germaine, I think you've got a concussion,” Orion announced, his voice deceptively calm and reassuring even as Julie flinched back with a disgusted sound at the sight of her friends vomit. “I need you to tell me how you feel. Your pupils are different sizes which is a pretty sure sign but I want to get everything out in the open before I take you to the nurse.”

“…ok…”

“Do you have a headache? I'm guessing you're feeling a bit nauseous…”

“…yeah…”

“Your speech isn't slurred which is good. What about motor control? Can you clap your hands for me, Guy? Not hard, just pat them together in front of your chest, OK?”

He tried, he really did, but his hands felt like they were made of lead…

“OK, I think that's definitely a mild concussion,” Orion announced. “What happened?”

This last question was directed at Julie who answered shakily,

“Cole checked him into the boards. We took him off straight away. He was fine for a minute or so but then he just went all floppy. We got him lying down and he seemed better.”

Guy grunted, his hand pawing at one of the ones now supporting his shoulders.

“Germaine?” Orion called out softly. “Is there something else?”

“…knee…knee to my head…after I was checked…”

Orion sucked in a sharp breath.

“Damnit, _this_ is why you should only play hockey games with the proper staff around to help,” Orion muttered sharply, glaring at Julie over his shoulder. “You’re lucky it's just a suspected concussion. What if he'd broken his neck? What would you have done then?”

Julie gasped tearfully.

“I don't…”

“Laps, Gaffney. Now,” Orion ordered her coldly, already shifting his grip on Guy so that his left arm was draped across his shoulders. “I'm taking Germaine to the nurse’s office.”

It was slow going, Guy apologising profusely the whole way, but even then the nurse had only just arrived by the time they reached her office. She hadn't even taken off her coat.

“Oh!” she gasped upon seeing them. “Goodness.”

“Suspected concussion,” Coach Orion explained as he got Guy up onto the examination bed in the corner of the room. “Took a hard check during practice and then, in the confusion, was kneed in the head as he fell. He's thrown up once but was fine all the way here.”

Guy frowned.

Had he just covered for them?

They would have been in serious trouble if word of their unauthorised use of the rink reached the wrong ears, not to mention how much trouble they'd get in for playing without proper supervision and support staff…or was he just covering for himself?

Guy didn't like to imagine how much trouble their coach could get into because of this.

Maybe…maybe it was a bit of both…

“What's his name?”

“Guy. Guy Germaine. Junior.”

Without warning a bright light was shone into his eyes, causing his to rear back in both surprise and pain, clenching his eyes shut as his stomach threaded to rebel once more.

“Definitely a concussion judging by those pupils,” the nurse murmured. “He threw up, you say? Was there any warning or reason? Or did it seem to be completely unprecedented?”

“I think he was trying to nod his head in response to a question.”

“Ah,” the nurse hummed thoughtfully. “So, Guy? Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?”

“…yes…”

“Ringing sound in your ears?” she continued her enquiry. “Trouble talking?”

“…no…and…not really…”

She hummed once more.

“No slurring of speech. Just the usual hesitation when pain is involved,” she concluded. “What about motor-functions? Coach? Did you check those? How about his walking?”

“He couldn't quite clap his hands but his walking was fine so long I helped to support him.”

“Ok, I don't think it's serious enough to require a hospital visit just yet,” the nurse concluded, her cool hand coming to rest across Guy’s forehead. “But I'm signing him out for at least today, possibly tomorrow. And definitely no hockey for at least the rest of the week. He needs rest to recover. Ideally he should have someone with him for the rest of the day.”

“Guy?” Orion called out softly. “Are either of your parents at home?”

“…no…” Guy sighed, wincing. “Mum…mum will be at…work and…dad left…years ago…”

“Is there anyone else who can look after you?”

“Mrs Wisniewski…” Guy mumbled, somehow managing not to trip over the surname. “Our…our neighbour…she doesn't…she doesn't go out because of her…her arthritis…”

She spent most of her day baking, in fact; all sorts of goodies which she left on a little table outside her apartment underneath a simple sign inviting people to help themselves for free.

“Ok,” the nurse murmured with obvious relief, already completing the form which she would hand in to the office to explain his absence. “If any of your symptoms get worse I need you to promise me you'll take yourself to the nearest emergency room, OK?”

“I promise…” Guy mumbled. “I just…I just want to lie down for a bit…”

“Yes, well, that's exactly what you need to do,” the nurse told him. “Plenty of fluids but don't force yourself to eat if you're not hungry or you'll only make yourself sick. Light meals. And I don't want you coming in tomorrow unless you feel well enough to, you understand?”

“Yes…”

“Guy, how did you get here this morning?” Orion enquired softly. “Guy?”

“…we always…skate in together…”

Coach Orion shared a look with the nurse.

“Well, that's not going to work,” he muttered. “Is all of your stuff in the locker room?”

Guy nodded minutely, his eyes closing in an effort to combat the nausea the move caused.

“Ok, then here's what's going to happen,” Coach Orion announced. “I'm going to go and pick up your things. Then I'll drive you home and get you settled in with your neighbour.”

Given that his only other option was catching a bus Guy made no sound of protest.

“Nurse, will you stay with him?”

She agreed, still focusing on filling out the various forms she was required to complete.

It was only then that he realised that he was still wearing his skates, that someone had slipped a pair of guards on over the blades. That…that explained some of the trouble he'd had walking over here. It hadn't even crossed his mind to ask them to remove his skates.

It took him the entire time that Orion was fetching his things to unlaced his skates, his movements as slow and as gentle as he could manage. At one point the nurse offered to help but he declined, feeling the need to get even a fraction of his independence back.

Orion returned, Guy's familiar backpack slung over his shoulder and his street shoes and roller blades held in his hands. The street shoes, a pair of rather worn out but ridiculously comfortable converse trainers, were quickly slipped onto his feet and then began the journey out to the teachers car; a tired looking Plymouth Reliant station wagon. In _beige_.

Guy couldn't stop himself from snorting softly,

“Nice car, Coach.”

“It serves its purpose,” Orion responded as he helped Guy get settled into the front passenger seat, dropping the roller blades and ice skates into the back seat. His back, filled with his school supplies and his street clothes, was placed on his lap. “Seatbelt on, please.”

Guy obeyed.

It was a little strange to be leaving the school whilst his fellow pupils were just beginning to arrive, some of them driving themselves in but a fair few getting dropped off by a parent, catching the bus or walking. One student even appeared to be tiding their horse to school.

Seriously, riding a _horse_ at school was weird enough but _to_ school; he wondered what Jesse, Tammy, Peter or any of the other kids from their old school would make of this place…

“I’m sorry to have caused…such a fuss…” Guy mumbled apologetically after giving his address to his coach, leaning his head against the cool window. He had been starting to feel a little better once he’d been sitting down but as soon as the car had begun making its way through the city his headache flared up even worse than before. “He’s got a…a hard knee…”

Coach Orion let out something which sounded almost like a chuckle.

“Olaf kneed me in the head once…without padding and that…didn’t hurt anywhere near as much…” Guy mumbled softly, frowning to himself as he compared the two instances, running his fingertips across the cool glass. “Although I suppose Cole put more…force behind it…Olaf did it by accident…climbing over me…so that he could get to…Gunnar…”

“Germaine?” Orion called out, sounding concerned. “…who’s Olaf? And Gunnar?”

A chill ran down Guy’s spine as his brain caught up with his mouth.

He could understand why the older man sounded concerned; to him it must have sounded like Guy started spouting off nonsense. Orion was probably worrying that his concussion was worse than they’d originally thought, perhaps believing him to be spouting nonsense.

There was only one thing he could do.

Come clean.

“They’re my…boyfriends…”

“Your…”

“Boyfriends,” Guy repeated, forcing himself to sit up a little bit straighter so that he could turn and face the understandably confused man driving the vehicle. “Gunnar Stahl and Olaf Sanderson. We met during the Junior Goodwill…Games. They were representing…Iceland…”

Had he not been focusing on navigating the busy roads Orion would no doubt have been staring at him in shock for numerous reasons; he’d just come out of the closet, so to speak, had admitted to being in a committed threesome and had admitted to dating rival players.

“We met on the…the fifth day, I think…” Guy continued to explain softly, his eyes automatically picking out familiar landscapes outside the car which warned him that they were just entering his neighbourhood and would be arriving soon. “And then we started…um… _dating_ a couple of days before we played them…the first time…”

“Huh…”

“I haven’t…” he trailing off, biting his lower lip for a moment. “I haven’t told the Ducks…”

“Why not?” Orion enquired with a frown. “Is this the right building?”

A quick glance out of the window followed by a nod prompted the coach to pull the car over in front of the run-down looking apartment block, the front door tagged with spray paint.

“…you live here?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Guy chuckled, remembering the first time Adam had come to visit him at home. Their “ _privileged_ ” friend had been utterly horrified. “It’s just…old…”

“So, Guy,” Orion murmured after he had exited the car, hurrying round to open up the passenger side door so that Guy could get out. “Why haven’t you told your friends?”

Guy sighed, allowing the teacher to pull him from the car.

“…they don’t even know I’m bisexual,” he admitted softly, leaning against the car whilst his coach retrieved his things from inside the vehicle. “I’ll tell them one day just…not yet…”

“Did Bombay know?” Orion enquired as he helped Guy up the front steps, the teenager holding his roller blades in one hand and his ice skates in the other, both pairs connected together by the laces to make it a little bit easier for him. Coach Orion had his backpack. “About Gunnar and Olaf? Did he know one of his player was fraternising with the _enemy_?”

Guy chuckled.

“He knew I hooked up with someone at the games,” he confirmed, reaching for his backpack where it hung over his coach’s shoulder so that he could retrieve his keys. “And he knew it was a boy, an older boy. Gave me a…um…talk about being _safe_ …but I don't think he knew…”

Mercifully the building lift was working at the moment, the transportation aid notorious for breaking down almost once a week, and they rode it up to the eleventh floor. Guy couldn't help but chuckle as Coach Orion gagged at the smell of stale urine just like Adam had; the stairs didn't smell quite so bad but there was no way he was climbing up them today.

“Which is your apartment, Germaine?” Orion asked once they finally emerged onto the correct floor. One of the overhead strip lights was on its way out, flickering and buzzing. Guy wondered how long it would take to get that fixed given how lazy their landlord could be; the only reason the lift got fixed as quickly as it did was because their landlords mother lived in the so called penthouse and needed to use it. “And your neighbours, Mrs Wisniewski’s?”

“We're in 11-14,” Guy answered softly, gesturing towards the door almost directly opposite the lift. A prime location, some people said, but Guy would counter that assessment by pointing out how loud people could be getting off of the lift, particularly when drunk. “Mrs Wisniewski lives in 11-10, just down there. Can't miss it; look for the table of sweet treats.”

Orion frowned but said nothing.

There was, in fact, only one slice of chocolate cake left when they arrived at his neighbour’s door but that combined with the ‘ _Fresh. Take. Eat. Free._ ’ sign was enough for Orion to chuckle, hanging his head to hide his smile even as he reached out to knock on the door.

_“Zaledwie kilka minut!”_

Guy couldn't speak Polish but he had heard that particular phrase enough times growing up that he was able to translate it for his Coach as they stood there waiting at the brown door,

_“Just a minute…”_

It actually took closer to two minutes for the door to open, revealing Mrs Wisniewski leaning heavily on her walker. She could still move around the kitchen with ease, if a little slowly, but anything more than a couple of paces required her walker. As per usual she was dressed in a simple blue smock dress, a flowery pinafore style apron protecting most of it and her grey hair was still wrapped around a set of rollers and held in place by a silk scarf.

“Good morning, Mrs Wisniewski,” Guy mumbled politely. “Um, I…”

“Good morning, Mrs Wisniewski, I'm Guy's hockey coach,” Orion spoke up, saving Guy the trouble of trying to explain what they were doing there whilst dealing with a sudden shaft of pain emanating from behind his left eyeball. Mrs Wisniewski’s confused expression softened. “Guy took a hit to his head during practise this morning and the school nurse has recommended that he be supervised for the next twenty-four hours. It's a minor concussion but I'm sure you know how these things can be. Anyway, Guy’s mother is working, as I'm sure you're aware, so we were wondering if he could stay with you until she gets home?”

“Oh, you poor dear,” the eighty year old woman cooed, reaching out with her careworn hands to cup Guy’s jaw. Her grandchildren, Guy knew, weren't able to visit as much as she'd have liked as they lived in Denver, Colorado and Chicago, Illinois and so he had always been something of a surrogate for her. “Always getting yourself into trouble, my little _kwiat_ , ever since you were a little boy skating on that silly pond. Let's get you settled onto the sofa.”

“Thanks, Mrs Wisniewski,” he mumbled, allowing his coach to guide him across the room and down onto the old sofa which was covered in multiple knitted blankets. “My mum should be home by five. I think…I think I just need to lie down until then, to be honest…”

Mrs Wisniewski was more than happy to look after him until his mother got home from work, reassuring Coach Orion that she would keep a close eye on him even as she began making some homemade soup which she vowed would have him better in not time.

He didn't have the heart to point out that a concussion was very different to a cold; if eating her homemade soup would keep his elderly neighbour happy then he would eat the soup.

“I don't want to see you until you're fully recovered, Germaine,” Orion ordered once Guy was settled, his pads stripped off leaving him in just his boxers and t-shirt underneath the soft blankets Mrs Wisniewski had given him. “And you won't be setting foot on the ice until after the game this weekend. I won't have you risking another concussion, understand?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“But don't think that gets you out of practise of the game itself; there's plenty for you to be doing off of the ice,” Orion pressed on, much to Guy's relief. “Rest. Feel better soon, son.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

~ * ~

 **A/N** I say this every time but sorry for the delay – serious writers block with this story until the other day and then boom, 2/3’s of this chapter written in a couple of hours. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments  & Suggestions always welcome. X

 **A/N2** The Polish is courtesy of google translate so I apologise if anything wrong with it. X


	6. Chapter Five

**~ CHAPTER FIVE ~**

“…vhat?!”

Guy smiled to himself as he listened to his lovers reactions to the news that he was recovering from a mild concussion following the unauthorised game against the Varsity team. He was back home now, his mother having collected him from Mrs Wisniewski's apartment after she'd arrived home from work to find the note which Coach Orion had apparently posted underneath their door, and had been thoroughly coddled by the woman who had been raising him singlehandedly for the last twelve years since his dad had split.

“I'll kill him!” Olaf exclaimed. “I'm going to kill him for vhat he did to you!”

“Technically it was an accident,” Guy mumbled, curling around the arm holding the phone to his ear as he snuggled into the mountain of pillows and cushions his mum had created for him to rest against whilst she cooked them both a light dinner. “And I'd prefer to get my own back by beating them fair and square the next time we face each other on the ice, ok?”

“…I still vant to kill him…”

“Are you sure you're alright?” Gunner asked softly. “Haf you been to the hospital?”

“No, I haven't been to the hospital, but the school nurse checked me out,” Guy reassured him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “It's a mild concussion but I'll promise you the same thing I promised the nurse and Coach Orion; if I feel worse I'll take myself to the hospital.”

Gunnar conceded, albeit reluctantly, whilst Olaf continued to mutter about extracting his own revenge once Guy was done besting the Varsity Team fair and square. It was oddly comforting to realise how much they cared about him. They talked for a further fifteen minutes, Guy changing the subject to their own practises and their next important game, and by the time his mum appeared with a tray containing his dinner he was muffling his laughter with the back of his hand as he listened to Olaf teasing Gunnar about a rather undignified incident which had happened a couple of days previously, one that included the dark-haired teen, a poorly placed stick by another player and a dramatic flip over the goal.

“…did you really flip over the goal and then get your helmet stuck in the net?”

A thud sounded through the phone as Gunnar hissed sharply in Icelandic, followed by Olaf yelping in mock outrage, leading Guy to assume he’d been thumped in the arm for sharing the embarrassing story with him. His mother smiled at him, motioning for him to end the call as she carefully placed the tray of food down on his lap, and left after ruffling his hair.

“I’ve got to go,” Guy apologised. “Call me this weekend after your Game?”

“Ok. Ve’ll talk to you then,” Gunnar agreed. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he responded with a goofy smile, keeping his voice low enough so that his mother wouldn’t overhear as he hadn’t told her that he was seeing anyone, much less two someone’s both of whom happened to be male. Not that he thought she’d disapprove of him being gay but she might have something to say about the committed threesome, the fact that his boy’s ends were older than him and lived in another country. “You too, Olaf.”

“Love you!” Olaf called out dramatically. “No more head injuries!”

“No more head injuries,” Guy agreed as he prepared to hang up. “Bye.”

 _“Bless ástin mín.”_ (“Goodbye my love.”)

~ * ~

Sadly due to a lingering balance and coordination issue Guy wasn’t well enough to play in the Game over the weekend which meant that the Team had to skate three players down.

It didn’t end well.

~ * ~

“Guy!”

Turning at the sound of his own name Guy was surprised to find none other than Adam Banks, his former teammate turned reluctant enemy, jogging across the quad towards him.

“Adam?”

“Hey,” Adam sighed as he came to a halt a couple of paces away from Guy, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag nervously. “I…I was just…I saw that you weren’t allowed to play in the game over the weekend and I just wanted to make sure you were…um…ok…so…um…”

Guy had never seen the other boy look as nervous as he did in that moment.

“I’m fine,” Guy interrupted his rambling, offering his unwilling enemy a reassuring smile. “I had a mild concussion. Nothing too serious. I just had a few lingering balance issues which meant I couldn’t play over the weekend but I’m fine now. No lasting harm done. I promise.”

Adam visibly relaxed, a deep sigh of relief expelling itself from his lungs.

He looked…well if Guy were being brutally honest Adam looked awful; his hair wasn’t styled properly like it used to be, his skin was pale and there were dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Adam? Are you alright?” he found himself enquiring softly. “Only you seem…”

Another deep sigh, this one more of discomfort than relief, escaped the slightly older teen.

“I’m…I’m a little lonely,” the Varsity player admitted softly. “I miss you guys, you see?”

And Guy did see; the Varsity Team were nothing more than that, a team of players who were trained to defeat their opponents. The Ducks were a family, first and foremost, and a successful hockey team second. They looked out for each other. They cared for each other.

And Guy was pretty sure that behind the current animosity they all still cared about Adam.

“Hey, have you done the essay for English Literature yet?”

Adam blinked in response to his sudden enquiry,

“I’ve started it but I’ve still got about half to go. Why?”

“Want to come round mine this evening and we can work on it together?”

Guy knew he’d been right to invite the other boy around, even if only for a study session, when Adams eyes seemed to light up, a genuine smile blossoming on his face as he nodded.

“That’d be great,” Adam admitted hurriedly. “Um, what time does your practice finish?”

Guy chuckled softly, “Should be done at about five. Realistically were talking more like six. Coach Orion is really pissed about the pick-up Game, you know? Charlie and Fulton quitting like that didn’t exactly help matters so he’s gone a bit Captain Blood to teach us a lesson.”

Adam winced in sympathy, remembering what it was like when Bombay was in his Captain Blood phase during the Junior Goodwill Games. Coach Wilson, the Varsity’s long standing Coach, wasn’t quite a Captain Blood but he was notoriously very strict with his players and reminded him of Coach Reilly, the cruel Coach who had taken him through the majority of his Peewee Hockey years, what with his belief that winning was all they should care about.

“I’ll hang around in the library until you finish,” he announced, prompting a Guy to smile at his obvious eagerness. “Varsity had morning practice today, as you know, and I haven’t got any obligations with them this evening. I…thanks, Guy…I really have missed you guys a lot.”

“Cool,” Guy agreed warmly. “I’ll meet you at the library, then.”

Parting ways Guy headed to his first class of the day and quickly realised that his meeting with Adam was likely to be the highlight his day; the teachers at Eden Hall were intense.

And not in a good way…

“I got a blue-and-red Adidas bag and a humongous binder I'm trying my best not to look like a minor-niner,” their music teacher announced loudly, looking around at his class in obvious distaste, particularly the Ducks. “I went out for the football team to prove that I'm a man. I guess I shouldn't tell them that I like Duran Duran. Listen up, Cowboy Dwayne. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Igor Stravinsky, Thelonius Monk. You're gonna meet all of them in here.”

And yet even this speech was trounced by their history teacher just before lunch.

“From their humble beginnings, they rose to make a difference!” the middle-aged man intoned as though he were at a rally or a protest. “They struggled, but they prevailed!”

And the less said about their English teacher, a woman fast approaching retirement who was completely obsessed with Wuthering Heights and didn’t own a hairbrush, the better.

He spent his lunch with Connie and Julie, laughing as they watched Louis completely fail to garner the attention of one of the idiotic cheerleaders who were all over the Varsity team.

“I honestly don’t know what he sees in her,” Connie muttered. “She’s such a…”

His ex-girlfriend couldn’t even think of a suitable word to describe the blonde and yet both Guy and Julie grunted in agreement around the mouthfuls of food they had been eating.

“He could do so much better.”

All three of them had the same class schedule after lunch, Physics, Chemistry, Biology and then finally Mathematics. Not Math, as his old school had referred to it, Mathematics. His three science teachers couldn’t have been more different from each other if they tried; his Physics teachers bore a scary resemblance to the mad scientist from ‘Back To The Future’ and had a tendency to get overexcited about things, his Biology teacher, despite being from Ohio, was almost impossible to understand as he spoke in nothing but scientific terminology and his Chemistry teacher was living representation of the phrase “I talk, you listen” and all they had done so far was make notes and read passages of their reference books in silence.

Luckily Guy had always been quite good at the three sciences and so was managing to keep up whilst also helping Connie who had always struggled with them, particularly Chemistry.

Mathematics, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

Guy had always liked Math.

He hadn’t necessarily been a natural at it like some of the others but he had always liked the problem solving element…emphasis on the word had as the lessons they were now being forced to suffer through at Eden Hall were absolutely nothing like what they were used to.

Everything was explained only the once and the at the speed of lightning, their teacher who could only be a few years off of mandatory retirement assuming that everyone had read through their textbooks before the school year and thus already knew how to complete all of the necessary equations. Should they make the mistake of asking for something to be explained a second time or, heavens forbid, ask for the explanation to be slowed down so that they could understand it the first time they were branded “complete dunderheads” and we’re brought up to the board where he would then proceed to make them work through the problem on the board, criticising and mocking them whenever they went wrong before explaining the correct way to solve it as though they were speaking to a kindergarten class.

Dwayne had not handled this treatment well and so had been surreptitiously moved so that he was sat next to Julie who was currently the top of the class and could discretely help him.

The rest of them just had to take it in turns to suffer so that the class as a whole could learn.

As soon as the final bell of the day sounded Guy was up and out of his chair, all but sprinting from the room in his eagerness to escape, and made his way through the maze of corridors to the junior varsity locker room, finding half of the team already inside whilst the other half filed in behind him. Stuffing his bag underneath the bench he set about changing from his street clothes into his hockey gear, absently noting that the undershirt he’d brought to wear today was one that Gunnar and Olaf had sent him from their University. In no time at all he had laced up his skates as tightly as they needed to be, noticing as he did so that one of the skates was looking a little bit loose and would soon need to be seen to, and was ready to go.

“Germaine,” Coach Orion greeted him as he stepped out onto the ice, a familiar sight in his Eden Hall sweatshirt and jeans, his whistle and clipboard held at the ready. “Warm-up laps.”

Nodding his head he happily joined those already on the ice completing their own warm-up laps, the tenseness which had built up in his shoulders throughout the day easing away as he settled into the familiar movement. It was a tough practice, just as he’d expected, and they were all put through their paces right to the very last whistle, but Guy didn’t mind; he found it almost cathartic, a way to express his pent-up energy after a day of tedious classes.

And then, just as he was dressing after his quick shower, a message arrived.

“Guys, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Coach Orion announced softly after having emerged from his officer where he’d taken the unexpected phone call. “That was Gordon Bombay; he wanted me to let you all know that, sadly, your mentor Hans has passed away.”

It was as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room, everyone inhaling sharply, and then for a long moment nothing happened. Even the Ducks who hadn’t known Hans were frozen. And then, finally, people began to react; Connie let out a small whimper that immediately had Dwayne pulling her into his arms. Averman and Goldberg, the comedy duo of the team, shared a long look before sinking silently down onto their respective benches.

And Guy found himself pressing a hand against his mouth as he choked back tears, his mind supplying an image of the elderly man who had happily allowed them to run riot in his shop when Coach Bombay had bought them all new skates, pads, helmets, gloves and sticks. He had always been there for the team, willing to give the, a discount in regards to deepening or fixing their skates…and wasn’t that a horrible coincidence that he had just been thinking about visiting Hans to get his skate sorted out at the start of their practice that evening.

“…is that Jans brother?” Julie enquired hesitantly, biting her lip when Connie nodded. The newer Ducks had met the younger of the two brothers who, after Hans had returned to America following the Junior Goodwill Games, had moved to Boston where they had apparently owned another Hockey Supplies Store. Would he be returning for the funeral, Guy wondered, or would it be too far to travel at his age. “I’m sorry. Can we do anything?”

“Do the other Ducks know?” Averman enquired, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he wiped away a lone tear from his cheek with his hand. “The guys from the original team?”

“Bombay didn’t say…”

“Then we need to tell them,” he announced, cutting of Orion’s apologetic voice. A grunt of agreement sounded from each member of the original team. “And Charlie and Fulton.”

“And Adam,” Guy added quickly. “We should split up, take a couple of people each.”

“We’ll come with you,” Julie offered, gesturing to the new Ducks. “For moral support.”

“I’ll take Adam,” Guy offered, thinking of how the other boy would be waiting for him in the library at that very moment. “And Jesse and Terry. I can stop by theirs on my way home.”

“I’ve got Tammy’s number in Boston,” Connie murmured, wiping her cheeks as she turned in Dwayne’s arms to face them. “I’ll give her a ring when I get home, tell her and Tommy.”

“Peter’s still in Juvie but I’ll give them a ring, see if they can give him a message,” Goldberg sighed, as uncharacteristically serious as his partner in crime was. “And I can tell Fulton.” 

“Does anyone have Karps number?”

As one the original Ducks shook their heads.

“I’ll send an email then,” Averman murmured, wiping away another tear that fell from his other eye. “Don’t know if he’ll get it but it’s the best I can do. Anyone want to take Charlie?”

“I’ll take Conway,” Orion announced when everyone else hesitated, recalling Charlie’s less than pleasant behaviour after the pick-up game. “I’ll stop by his apartment and tell him.”

They finished dressing, the atmosphere significantly altered by the news they had received, and once he was ready Guy ducked out of the locker room and headed for the library. He couldn’t believe Hans was gone; to him the older man had seemed immortal but that was probably because he’d been old when they first met and so hadn’t actually seemed to age.

He found Adam bent over what seemed to be his history textbook looking rather frustrated.

“Adam,” he called out softly as he slipped into the seat beside his friend, conscious of the matronly librarian watching them from across the room. “We’ve had some bad news...”

“Bad news?”

Guy took a deep breath, bracing himself for the sadness he was about to cause,

“Hans has passed away.”

He could see the moment that the news sunk in, Adam’s entire face falling as tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to comprehend what had happened, his complexion turning worryingly ashen which prompted Guy to reach out and take one of his hands on his own.

“I volunteered to tell Jesse and Terry,” he explained. “Would you like to come with me? I don’t know if I’m up for studying anymore tonight but I don’t think we should be alone.”

Adam could only nod in response.

Working together they packed up his things and left the library, changing into their roller blades once they were outside so that they could travel home in their usual manner. Some of the others had stopped skating to school but both of them still did it, along with Connie and Fulton, or at least he had before he’d started skipping school after the pick-up game.

They tried the shop first but found a stranger behind the counter, prompting them to head on to the Halls small apartment where the door was open by a harangued looking Mr Hall.

“Hi, Mr Hall. Are Jesse and Terry home?” Guy enquired, shifting the way his backpack was sitting on his shoulders. Using their years of practice the pair of them had climbed the narrow staircase with their roller blades still on and now shifted their feet back and forth to keep them in place, occasionally giving in and using the brake. “We need to talk to them…”

Mr Hall frowned.

“Boys?” he called out over his shoulder. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Footsteps from inside the apartment preludes the brother’s arrival, both of whom grinned upon seeing who was waiting for them although their smiles quickly fell from their faces.

“What’s wrong?”

With the Hall brothers there was only one way to deliver bad new; quickly, like a bandaid.

“Hans is dead.”

Terry’s expression fell instantly, prompting Adam to reach out to support him as his body slumped sideways, sending both of them bumping into the door frame as tears began to fall down his cheeks. Winding an arm around the younger boys shoulders Adam pulled him into his side whilst digging out his handkerchief which Guy would have teased him about had the situation not been so serious, so that he could use it to gently wipe away his friend’s tears.

“Oh...” Jesse mumbled, his own hand coming up drag down across his entire faced. “I see…”

“Connie is letting Tammy know,” Guy informed him. “But you might want to give her a call.”

“I will,” Jesse sighed, wiping his own tears away with his fingertips. “Thanks, man.”

Mr Hall, who had always supported the rest of the team as much as he had his own sons and had therefore been a positive male influence in Guy’s life, stepped forwards, putting his arms around both of his sons and pulling them back towards him, Adam quickly stepping back and releasing his hold on Terry so that his friend could turn to his father for comfort.

“Let us know when the funeral is and we’ll be there,” Mr Hall announced, his eyes locking with Guy’s until the teenager nodded to show his agreement. “Are the two of you alright?”

“Not really,” Guy admitted, Adam offering a huff of agreement. “But we will be.”

“Do you want to come in for a minute?”

“No, we should probably get going,” he responded, shaking his head as he brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “I should be getting home. I still need to tell my mum.”

“I should let my parents know, too,” Adam added, holding up a hand to deter Terry when he tried to hand back the handkerchief which he had taken hold of whilst Adam had been using it to dry his tears. “Keep it. I have plenty more. My mum won’t let me go out without one.”

Jesse snorted, his voice wet with suppressed tears,

“Why doesn’t that surprise me, Cake-Eater?”

They parted ways, the pair of them skating carefully down the stairs and out onto the pavement in front of the apartment building. It made send for them to go their way from that point onwards as their homes were in completely the opposite directions and yet Guy turned away from his home and willingly skated out of his way to accompany Adam home.

“Shall we meet up tomorrow to complete our English assignment?” he suggested as they took the corner into Adam’s road at as high a speed as was safe. “It’s due in Friday, right?”

Adam nodded.

“Sounds good,” he agreed, coming to a halt at the bottom of his driveway. “Thanks, Guy.”

“We’re friends, Adam. It shouldn’t matter what team we play for and I’m sorry that it has,” he apologised, moving forwards to pull his friend into a rather unsteady hug as both of them struggled to keep their feet underneath them. “Call me if you need to talk. About anything.”

“I will,” Adam promised. “So long as you know that you can return the favour.”

It was Guys turn to nod as they parted, rolling backwards a couple of feet before he even made an attempt to stop himself. They said their goodbyes quickly, aware of the fact that the light was fading, and parted with a cheerful wave as Guy turned and headed for home.

That evening, long after his mother had gone to bed, he called Gunnar and Olaf.

They talked for nearly two hours, despite the time difference and the painful cost of the international phone call. Unknown to the American teen whilst he was being comforted by his lovers Gunnar was already making plans for he and Olaf to travel to St Paul, Minnesota.

~ * ~

_“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name._

_Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us._

_Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil._

_For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen.”_

They had gathered in the cemetery that Hans, in the run up to his apparently predictable death, had reserved a plot in as part of his funeral plan. It wasn’t beside his wife, apparently, which his granddaughters confessed that he had been very sad about, but it was in the same section. His granddaughters, who Guy had never met before they’d arrived at the funeral, were all dressed in what were apparently traditional Austrian outfits; they had worn them for their grandmother’s funeral and had promised Hans that they would wear them for his.

He was dressed in his only suit, black thankfully, but he hadn’t been able to find a suitable tie that morning and so had worn his white shirt with the top two buttons undone. Jesse, stood on his right with his arm around Tammy’s waist, was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater which was too big for him and his smartest pair of jeans. It was good of Tammy and Tommy to fly in all the way from Boston for the funeral, both of them dressed in smart black clothes, and all of the original Ducks were looking forward to catching up with them later.

“Excuse me,” Coach Bombay’s voice surprised them all as he made his way through the crowd of people who had gathered to remember Hans. Guy wasn’t the only one to jump slightly in surprise, not having expected their former Coach to be there. “One second.”

A lump formed in his throat when Bombay unfurled an old style Duck’s jersey with ‘HANS’ printed across the back which he carefully draped across the end of the coffin, moving a little posy of flowers out of the way so that he could carefully drape the jersey across the polished wood. He then, equally as carefully, replaced the posy of flowers on top of it.

He then turned to the Ducks, murmuring sincerely,

“Every time you touch the ice, remember it was Hans who taught us to fly.”

Guy couldn’t blame Connie for letting out a choked little sob, his own tears threatening to spill over as he remembered everything that Hans had done for them, not just knitting them out but supporting them throughout their training, helping transform them from District Five into the Ducks, coming to every single one of their games...not to mention the fact that if Hans hadn’t convinced Gordon Bombay, the lawyer doing community service after being caught driving hilts drunk, to give them a shot then they wouldn’t even _be_ a hockey team.

The fact that Charlie, in full drama queen mode, stormed off before they even finished saying goodbye to Hans didn’t go unnoticed and it certainly didn’t reflect well on him.

As planned the Ducks, old and new, headed down to the Goldberg Family Diner once the funeral had come to its tearful conclusion where they shared a shocking amount of pizza and bittersweet conversation, Tammy and Ken bonding over figure skating within a matter of seconds, as they each shared memories of Hans between catching up with each other.

Guy had worried, briefly, about how the others would react to Adam attending the funeral but they had all put their rivalry aside for the day and, as the afternoon went by and Adam shared more and more about his unpleasant time with the Varsity team, they all came to the conclusion that they had been wrong to exclude him from their group just because he had been moved against his will to another team. Of course Charlie, the one who’d been the most vocal about Adams “betrayal” was absent so perhaps that had something to do with it but Guy couldn’t help but think that Hans would be pleased that his death, as sad as it was, could finally be the thing to bring them all back together. Charlie, despite being one of the oldest in their group, had always been one of the least mature and even back when they’d been “the losers of District Five” he’d taken everything to heart so it was no surprise that it was going to take him longer to pull his head from where it had become so firmly buried.

But he’d get there, of that Guy had no doubt.

After nearly two hours of pizza and conversation the group parted to go their separate ways, all of them wishing Tammy the best with her next competition which would be the one that would either earn her a place on the Olympic Team or would leave her dream just out of reach. Guy said his own goodbyes and then headed home, taking a shortcut down a network of alleyways that he could only take during the day when they were illuminated.

The last thing he had been expecting to see when he arrived home was his lovers, Gunnar and Olaf, sat on the sofa drinking coffee out of his mother’s best mugs whilst his mother sat between them proudly showing off the photograph album which Guy knew contained his baby photos. For a long moment Guy stood in the doorway, unable to believe what he was seeing, but then as one the three people on the sofa looked over at him and smiled broadly.

“Guy!” his mother cried out happily, lowering the photo album down onto her thighs and confirming that she had indeed been showing off his embarrassing baby pictures. Judging by the smirk on Olaf’s face the blond had been enjoying the experience. Gunnar, on the other hand, looked embarrassed on his behalf. “I was just starting to get worried. The funeral must have finished hours ago. And your friends have been waiting for almost an hour…”

Guy couldn’t look away from the lovers he hadn’t seen in months,

“I…I didn’t know you were coming…”

“Ve thought you might need us today,” Gunnar explained, rising from the sofa and setting aside his mug as he moved across the room to pull Guy into his arms. The tears that Guy had just managed to hold back at the funeral began to flood down his cheeks as he inhaled the familiar scent of his lover, pressing his nose against Gunnar’s neck. Gunnar smiled into Guys hair, squeezing him tightly as he whispered, “Ve didn’t know how much you’ve told her...”

“I…I wanted you to be here when I told her,” Guy admitted, aware of Olaf moving to hover close by as he waited for his own hug. His mum hung back, frowning slightly until a look of dawning realisation covered her expressive features when Guy pressed a tentative kiss to Gunnar’s lips, keeping it chaste and light before turning to face her. “Mum. This is…um…”

His mother smiled genuinely as she offered,

“…your boyfriend?”

“One of them,” Guy blurted out before he could think of a better way to get the truth out into the open, stepping away from Gunnar so that Olaf who was grinning so broadly that he could’ve easily been mistaken for a villain in a Disney film, could swoop in for his own hug and rather more passionate kiss. “Mum, these are my boyfriends, Gunnar Stahl and Olaf Sanderson. We’ve been dating since about halfway through the Junior Goodwill Games…”

“…and I’m going to go out on a limb and say that they’re the reason you’ve started putting money towards the phone bill out of your allowance,” his mum responded, her smile back in place, and Guy was more than a little bit relieved to hear how amused she sounded. She’d been very accepting of him when he’d come out to her as bisexual, back when he’d broken up with Connie, but he’d worried that their committed threesome might be too much for her to accept or understand. That and he was slightly worried about the age difference. “It certainly explains the international phone calls that I didn’t remember making. Now, do I have it right that when you say ‘your boyfriends’ you mean that the three of you are in a relationship together? It’s not you dating both of them at the same time but separately?”

“No, we’re…” Guy cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he reached out to take hold of the hand Gunnar had silently offered him whilst Olaf tucked him into his side, wrapping an arm around Guys waist. “We’re together. The three of us. As a…threesome…”

“…you never were one for taking the easy path, not even when you were a little boy,” his mother announced with a soft smile, stepping forwards until she could reach out to cup his jaw with her hand. “It’s unorthodox, I’ll grant you, but unorthodox isn’t always a bad thing. However, before I give my blessing I’d like to get to know your boyfriends a little bit better.”

Guy smiled.

He was incredibly lucky, he decided then and there, to have such a wonderful mother.

Others, he knew, wouldn’t have been nearly so understanding.

~ * ~

Darting around Averman who had been trying to block his attack run on the goal, using his old hockey stick to knock the plastic ball into the garbage can, creating a loud bang. None of them used their current sticks, not wanting to risk breaking them during a game of street hockey, and so there was rather a lot of tape wrapped around their sticks in various places.

“Hey!” Goldberg cried out. “Nice move!”

The ball rebounded out of the garbage can and was immediately kicked back into play, his friends swarming around it as they all jostled one another to get at the little orb of plastic.

When Connie had called him that morning to tell him about the plan to hold a game of street hockey in Hans honour he had been tempted to refuse, wanting to spend as much time as he could with Gunnar and Olaf before they had to return to Iceland the following morning. They had to be back in time for their Monday afternoon practice; they could get away with skipping their classes but their lives wouldn’t be worth living if they missed a single one of their practices. That meant that, with the time he had missed spending with them for the funeral and the get together afterwards, he only had one full day with them.

“You should go, _á_ _stin m_ _í_ _n_ ,” Gunnar had murmured having overheard the conversation, stopping Guy just as he was about to make his excuses. “Ve’ll still be here ven you get back.”

Guy had pressed the telephone against his shoulder to muffle his voice as he responded,

“Are you sure?”

“ _J_ _á_ ,” Gunnar had insisted. “Haf fun vith your friends. Ve vill haf tonight.”

“Hey!” Luis’ sharp voice brought him back to the present just as the plastic ball was passed directly between his legs, travelling from Fulton’s stick to the voices owner. “On your left!”

“That doesn't count!” Goldberg protested vehemently. “That was below the belt!”

It was an innocent phrase, one which Goldberg had used countless times before to protest a move that he didn’t like, but this was the first time that Guy had had anything but an equally innocent reaction to it; this time his cheeks burned and his cock throbbed in time with his heart for a long moment as he remembered the _‘below the belt’_ way Olaf had woken him.

His mother, after an evening of pleasant conversation designed to introduce his boyfriends to her properly, had agreed to allow Gunnar and Olaf to share Guy’s bed for the two nights they would be in America so long as he promised nothing “untoward” would happen. Guy had had every intention of obeying his mother’s wishes when the three of them climbed into his bed that evening, snuggling tightly together so that they could all fit, and nothing more than sleeping happened…until the early hours of the morning when he woke to the feeling of a familiar, soft, wet heat around his morning wood and would have cried out in shock and pleasure had Gunnar not stolen a kiss, despite their morning breath. Olaf, the one buried under the covers breaking his mum’s wishes, had only chuckled around his mouthful.

And judging by the look that his mother gave the three of them when they emerged from his room Gunnar’s kisses hadn’t done enough to muffle the sounds that he’d been making.

Dwayne cried out cheerfully, bringing guy back from his X-rated memory and drawing their attention to the edge of the basketball court which they had commandeered for their game,

“Hey, it's Coach Bombay!”

It was the figure standing beside their old coach which made them all smile, however,

“Damn, Conway, what took you so long?”

“Come on!”

“Get in the game!”

Fulton had come back to school and back to the team the day after the news of Hans’ death had reached them but Charlie had held out; it wasn’t all that surprising that it was Coach Bombay that was finally able to bring him back into the fold given that as much as Mr Hall had been a father figure for Guy and most of the others Bombay had been one for Charlie.

“Yeah, come on, Coach!”

“Come on, guys, let's go!”

“Come on.”

What followed was the most disorderly game Guy had ever played in.

The rules were quickly abandoned, everyone determined to just have fun and enjoy the chaos of the game, delivering cheap shots designed not to hurt but to amuse, one of which involved Guy and Dwayne ganging up on Connie and tickling her sides until she collapsed to her knees in an effort to get away from them. They could have kept score but they didn’t, simply enjoying the sound that the ball made when it hit the back of the makeshift goals. 

“Yeah, come on, let's go!”

Eventually the game dissolved altogether when Fulton and Charlie got it into their heads that it would be a good idea for them to put Coach Bombay in one of the garbage cans.

“Put him in the trash can!”

And then, after they’d rescued the joyously hysterical man from his metal cage, they then proceeded to place Goldberg in the garbage can and then someone, possibly Averman, decided that it would be a fantastic idea to get the other goal and place it on top of him.

“Try this on for size, Goldie.”

It was the best day Guy had had in a long while, made even more perfect by the fact that Gunnar and Olaf were waiting for him when he got home. With his mother at work that evening the three of them decided, unanimously, that her request that they not get up to anything only really applied when she was within listening distance (“Like this morning, Olaf, which I’m sure my mum knew about…” “Don’t act the innocent vith me, Guy Germaine; you could haf stopped me any time you wanted to and you know it.” “…shut up and kiss me.”) and chose to spend the evening getting properly reacquainted with each other’s bodies as they had no way of knowing when they would actually be able to be together like this again.

Guy ended up only getting two hours sleep before it was time to head to the airport, the three of them taking a taxi to catch Gunnar and Olaf’s early morning flight. Saying goodbye at the apartment required a lot of kissing; saying goodbye in public meant a lot of hugging.

“Thank you,” Guy murmured as he hugged them both as tightly as he could, his head ending up squished between theirs. “I know I would have survived this weekend without you if I’d had to but you being here made this weekend so, _so_ much better. Not just the funeral, but telling my mum the truth; I couldn’t do it alone, I needed your strength to give me courage.”

“You haf it,” Olaf murmured sincerely. “Alvays. Ve vill alvays come to you if we can.”

“Thank you.”

A voice over the tannoy announced that their flight was beginning to board and Guy’s arms tightened around their necks, holding them closer to him as he felt his body start to shake.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“It vill not be forever, _á_ _stin m_ _í_ _n_ ,” Gunnar murmured, pressing a discreet kiss to Guy’s cheek. “And now that you’re _m_ _óð_ _ir_ knows about the three of us ve can talk more often. Ve vill call you this evening ven ve get home from practice, if you vould like, although it might be late.”

“Please,” Guy gasped quickly. “Please call me. I don’t care how late it is…”

“Then ve vill call you,” Olaf promised, pressing his own discreet kiss to Guy’s cheek before the two of them pulled away from him. He felt the loss immediately, his stomach clenching unpleasantly. “Now, you must let us go so that ve can catch our flight. Ve vill see you soon.”

Guy felt irrationally tearful as they said their final goodbyes and he watched them enter the flight terminal, their backpacks slung casually over one shoulder as they waved back at him.

He was out of sorts for the rest of the day.

~ * ~

“Mendoza,” Coach Orion announced grandly as he made it to the final two names on his list, glancing around for their owners before putting an obvious tick on the page. “And Fulton.”

It was as their coach was returning to the front of the bus to tell the driver that everyone was present and accounted for that a surprise arrived, hurrying up the first couple of steps.

“Conway?”

No one had seen or heard from Charlie since they’d played the game of street hockey but it appeared that Charlie had used his final five days of absence from school, officially put down to a nasty stomach bug by his mother, to get his head on straight as he announced,

“I want to be on the team, Coach. I want to play two-way hockey.”

All conversation in the bus ceased as they waited to see how Coach Orion would respond.

“Can I come back?”

A long moment passed, during which Guy began to fear the worst, before Orion nodded.

“Take a seat. We're running late. Let's go. We got a game to catch.”

Russ, of course, was the first one to call out as the bus engine sputtered to life,

“It's about time, Conway.”

Everyone let out their own greeting, some wholeheartedly welcoming, others joining Russ in mocking how long it had taken Charlie to come to his senses. Guy, his emotions still in a bit of a slump following his lover’s too brief visit, merely smiled across at their returned friend.

“Crank her up, Mr. Bus Man!”

“Oh, man, you should have seen your face,” Russ crowed loudly, sticking out his bottom lip and clasping his hands together to create an overly dramatic impression of Charlie, batting his eyelashes heavily. “ _Oh, Coach, I want to play two-way hockey. Can I come back? Please?_ ”

Charlie responded by smacking him around the head, lightly so as not to cause any damage.

“Ow!”

Just as the bus was about to pull away from the pavement, the Ducks all laughing as Russ overplayed his response to Charlie’s attack, the door swung open to admit Dean Buckley.

“I almost missed you,” the Dean huffed, pretending to be more out of breath than he really was as he climbed the four steps. “Coach, you mind if I have a few words with your boys?”

“And girls.”

“Yes, of course,” the Dean caught himself quickly, smiling across at Julie who had been the one to speak up although Connie had obviously ready to add her piece as well. “And girls.”

“If you can make it quick, Dean,” Coach Orion requested. “We're running late as it is.”

“I'm afraid this is important.”

Guy frowned.

There was something off in his tone of voice…

It almost sounded apologetic…

Regretful…

The reason became infinitely apparent as the Dean continued to speak,

“We have a board meeting scheduled tomorrow, and, well, you all are on the agenda.”

That did _not_ sound good…

“We have to think long-term here,” Dean Buckley announced, his words causing Orion to shift, a look of distaste appearing on their Coaches face. “What's in _your_ best interest.”

Guy’s stomach plummeted.

“Hard as it is for me personally, because you kids have been a breath of fresh air around here, the board is going to approve the withdrawal of your scholarships,” Dean Buckley announced quickly, obviously wanting to deliver the news as swiftly as possible. To say you could have heard a pin drop would have been an understatement, some of them actually holding their breath in shock. “You’ll be welcome to stay through the end of the semester but after that it will be necessary for you to enjoy other educational opportunities.”

“Dean,” Orion all but snapped as the Ducks sat, numb. “I need a word with you.”

Typical of a man in his position the Dean tried to brush him off but he was having none of it.

“I think I've said all I need to say.”

“No, now.”

“ _Other educational opportunities?_ ” Dwayne mumbled, frowning in confusion as the two exited the bus. He turned to face the boy sat in front of him. “What's he saying, Russ?”

“I'll put it in terms you can understand,” Russ sighed heavily. “Adios, amigo.”

“ _Adios, amigo_ …”Dwayne repeated slowly before the meaning dawned on him. “Oh. I see…”

It was like seeing a puppy getting kicked in the face...

“So that's it?” Orion’s voice filtered in through the open door, prompting most of the Ducks to crowd over onto the near side of the bus so that they could hear clearly, pressing their faces up to the windows. Their coach looked pissed. “You're dumping 'em, just like that?”

“Coach, I'm sorry. Your team isn't performing, and I've been under enormous pressure.”

“From whom? The alumni group?” Orion scoffed. “A bunch of ageing pep clubbers?”

“Ted, I'm trying to do you a favour,” Buckley pointed out with obvious frustration. “With those kids gone, you'll get to pick your own team. Let's face it, the Ducks are drowning.”

Orion glanced back at the bus, his expression pained, before announcing firmly,

“I got my team. Either they stay or I go.”

Dean Buckley sighed, patting Coach Orion on the arm as he announced,

“We'll miss you, Ted.”

No.

They couldn’t…

This couldn’t be happening…

“Why us?”

“'Cause he's a slime.”

Guy followed the others as they filed off of the bus, all of them more than a little bit dazed by the sudden turn of events, and moved to gather around their equally stunned Coach.

“I know where that dude lives.”

“We're just pawns, puppets for the stage show,” Averman cried out melodramatically, his voice steadily rising in volume. “Jesters to entertain the king, barnacles on the bottom of-”

“Shut up!”

“Coach, is this legal?” Goldberg asked, shouldering his way forwards after Russ had effectively stopped Averman’s tirade. “I mean, don't we have contracts or something?”

“I don't know what it is,” Orion admitted seriously. “All I know is we're gonna fight it.”

~ * ~

 **A/N** Apologies for the delay, been a bit busy with some of my other stories and real life. I can’t promise it won’t take me a while to get the next chapter out but I promise I haven’t forgotten about this story. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X

 


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